#ive had this idea for a while but the last time i tried i hated it

[rottengurlz]

That guy

[gu6chan]

Not to be dramatic and point fingers but why is it that the worst people with no respect towards art or anything that doesn't involve mindless consumption for "the lore" always have to be drakengard 3 and nier fans. like i don't even try to look and search for things to complain about regarding them but somehow every stupid fucking thing in this fanbase comes back to them

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt IV

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

WC - 5.6k

Summary - A snow day prompts Steve and Abbey to spend a little one on one time together.

AN - sorry this one took a little longer! being creative is hard when the U.S keeps sucking me of all my joy. thanks for the patience, love y’all! ~ emma

Three weeks ago, your daughter’s kindergarten teacher gave you his phone number in a chilly, deserted diner parking lot, and every weekday since that night, Abbey has had to all but drag you from his classroom when you go to pick her up in the afternoons. One topic leads to another and another, and before you realize it, you and Steve have been chatting in his mostly empty classroom for over an hour. But this morning, you’re dialing those digits he gave you on your landlines keypad for the first time with shaky fingers. You’d spent the past hour exhausting all your other options. Your mother? Working. Your sister? Out of town. Your usual babysitter? sick.

Steve was the only person you knew for a fact wouldn’t be working today.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to that you hadn’t called yet. Every waking hour since that night, you had been wrestling with yourself about what an appropriate reason would be. Was he flirting with you? Did he genuinely just want you to have access to him in case of an emergency? Both? Your inner dialogue was deafening– like a squawking bird in the back of your brain.

The intrusive volume of your thoughts seemed to quiet now as your leg bounced impatiently– anxiety over the prospect of having to call into work outweighing your trepidation– waiting for him to pick up the call on the other line. 

He finally answered halfway through the fourth ring, “Hello?” Despite the early hour, Steve sounded wide awake. Probably rousing at the same time you did, not expecting to be temporarily blinded by three feet of bright, white snow piled on top of his car. On the kitchen radio, you can hear the newscaster announcing a closure of the local schools.

“Steve, it’s Y/N,” your voice cuts through the static.

He pauses briefly, yours probably being the last voice he expected to hear when he picked up his phone, “Hey, morning–” he clears his throat, “everything alright?”

“Yes– well– I don’t know.” You rub the tips of your fingers restlessly over your closed eyelids, “I don’t have anyone to watch Abbey with the school being closed, I've tried everyone and I really hate to ask but–”

“Of course, I can be there in thirty. Can you give me your address?”

“Are you sure, Steve? I can just call out if–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just give me your address,” his incredulity and lack of hesitation sends the wings fluttering about in your stomach again, while cementing the reassurance of his words. You gain the courage to repeat your home address for him to write down.

You can hear the sound of pen hastily scratching paper, then after a few beats of silence he speaks again, “It’ll take me a little bit to clear off my car, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t mention it,” you can hear the grin in his voice, can picture the flash of perfect white squares, “see you soon,” you breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the click of the receiver being placed back in its cradle. Abbey is bundled up on the couch watching Rugrats, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Normally, you wouldn’t let her eat in the living room, but you needed respite from her usual game of 20 Questions to make some phone calls.

“Hey, Ab,” you say as you approach her, thoroughly engrossed in her cartoons, “Is it okay if Mr. H comes over and watches you today while mommy goes to work?”

The question is more than enough to pull her focus from the television screen. Her face lights up like the Fourth of July as she nearly spills her cereal with the force of her straightening on the sofa, “Really?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, grandma is working and Julia is sick. Is that okay?” As excited as you know she is, you want her verbal confirmation. Mostly because you’d never put your child in a situation she’s uncomfortable in; but a smaller, more selfish part of you wants to be absolved of the guilt you feel for having to leave her all day.

Your wish is granted almost instantly as she squeals and hops off the couch where she’d been lounging, placing her bowl on the coffee table. Halfway to her room, she calls, “Mommy! Where are my coloring books?”

“They’re on top of your bookshelf,” you call, “don’t make a huge mess, please!”

“I won’t!” She replies, muffled through the drywall separating you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You hadn’t had time to tidy the house or make yourself look even remotely presentable before Steve arrived. If it weren’t for the relief that floods your body upon seeing his car pull in the driveway, you might even be a little embarrassed. Booted footsteps shuffle up the porch as you’re shoveling things into your bag at the last minute, followed by three light knocks on the door.

“Coming!” You shout from where you stand in the dining room.

Before you even have the chance to reach the foyer, Abbey is darting from her bedroom in plastic play shoes and throwing the door open with immeasurable enthusiasm.

“Hey–” Steve starts, expecting it to be you before he realizes who’s greeting him, “Oh, hi Ab,” he waves to the little face staring up at him, “Where’s your mom?”

“Mommy!” Abbey calls, “Mr. H is here!”

Steve spots you holding two pieces of notebook paper clad with chicken scratch scribblings. You look frazzled– hair thrown up hastily and scrubs wrinkly. He scours the place where he would normally find an emotion akin to pity for your distressed state, but in its absence, he only feels endearment laced with a little concern.

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re shoving the papers in his hands and spouting off information that he’s praying is already on the sheets you’ve given him.

“I should be home by five, if anything happens, this–” you point to a barely legible number, “--is my work phone. This is her doctor’s phone number and she’s allergic to peanuts. There aren’t any peanuts in the house but–” you sigh, exasperated with yourself, “just in case.”

The rest of the pages are filled with ramblings about which channels Abbey likes to watch and how to work the television. How, in case she needs a bath, you have to pull and then twist the knob for the hot water to run. That she is not, under any circumstances, allowed to put nail polish on by herself and where you keep her Epi Pens.

Steve’s surprised at how many of these sentiments he already has catalogued. He’s required to know Abbey’s emergency contacts and that she has a nut allergy for his job, but he knows that channel thirty-seven has the best cartoons because Abbey once told him that Power Puff Girls was her favorite– and you’d already relayed to him the hilariously tragic tale of what happened the last time Abbey attempted to paint her own nails.

Despite this revelation, he doesn’t dare interrupt you. He indulges your ranting, a grin creeping involuntarily along his face.

“-- sorry, I’m rambling– I’ve just never left her with someone who wasn’t my mom or her sitter before,” you’re a little breathless after two straight minutes of talking.

“Hey, hey– you’re okay,” he wastes no time reassuring you, “you know I’d never let anything happen to her.” You nod your understanding, “Besides,” now he’s speaking to Abbey, “we’re gonna have a super fun time right?”

She shouts, “Yes!”

He looks at you with his brows raised, amused, “See?”

“Okay, alright,” you kneel down, chuckling, “do I get a hug? Or am I chopped liver?”

Giggling, Abbey wraps you in a suffocating embrace, like always. Her excitement for Steve has never quelled her affection for you, and you can tell that she’s still hesitant to see you go. You smack a kiss on her cheek, grabbing your bag from the floor as you rise again.

“Swear you’ll call me if anything happens?” You ask him one more time, already knowing the answer.

“Cross my heart.” He smiles fondly, stoking the flames burning bright around the cage that your heart inhabits.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your home is cozy, much cozier than anything Steve had growing up. He’s warmed at the idea that Abbey has the privilege of growing up in a house that feels so lived in– stains on the carpet, soft edges and yellow lighting. There’s clutter on the kitchen counter by the microwave and colorful alphabet magnets securing several bright pieces of artwork to the fridge.

“Are these the pictures you drew in art class last week?” He asks Abbey, who has been trailing behind him all through the house, pointing things out to him as they go.

“Uh-huh, Mrs. Morse helped me with that one,” she points to what Steve thinks is probably supposed to be a zebra.

“Well, you’re very talented, I love them,”

“Can we go play outside?” She asks, drawing out the last syllable and completely ignoring Steve’s compliment.

“Sure we can,” he chuckles, “where do you keep your snowsuit?”.

Abbey takes Steve by the wrist and leads him to the coat closet by the front door. Similar to the rest of your house, it’s stuffed to the brim– full of puffy nylon and heavy winter boots. He catches a glimpse of a familiar brown and green jacket– his jacket. You’d promised to wash it and return it to him, but it must’ve slipped your mind. He grins to himself at the reminiscence as he fetches Abbey’s snow gear and shuts the door.

Steve hadn’t dressed appropriately for a morning rolling around in the cold. He had slipped on a pair of your mittens, probably meant more for fashion than practicality, because his fingers were already completely numb. But he can’t seem to deny her when Abbey pleads with him to make snow angels. They’d just spent the past half an hour building two snowmen– one short like Abbey and one tall like Steve, she insisted, as she wrapped her scarf around the snowman that resembled her.

“Please, Mr. H?” She begs when she notices his hesitancy.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “but then we’re gonna go inside and have lunch. Deal?”

That appears to be a good enough covenant for her, “Okay!” Abbey exclaims, falling fairly harshly to the cushioned ground. Steve braces himself for tears, but Abbey only keeps laughing in that contagious way as she begins spreading her arms and legs out beside her in a repetitive motion.

“Are you gonna make one?” She questions from her place on the ground.

He grunts as he reluctantly lowers himself down next to her, anticipating the icy wetness waiting underneath him. The snow seeps uncomfortably through his jeans, but the sound of Abbey’s unbridled joy nearly makes up for his soiled clothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What’d you want to eat, Ab?” Steve calls from the pantry while Abbey changes out of her wet clothes in her bedroom.

“Not hungry!” She calls back.

He sighs, expecting her stubbornness– she was nearly as mulish as you.

“Remember the deal we made earlier?” He asks, “That if I made a snow angel with you, that you’d have to eat something for lunch, right?”

She emerges from her room, pout prominent on her strikingly adorable features, “But I wanna keep playing,” she whines, giving her foot a little stomp on the linoleum for emphasis.

“We can keep playing after, I promise,” he knows he’s not winning this battle without a compromise, “does your mom let you eat in the living room?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that makes him sound conspiratorial.

“Sometimes…”

“How about…” he pauses as if thinking, “I make us some food and we watch a movie while we eat?”

He can tell he’s got her after that– hook, line and sinker. She still pretends to mull over his proposition for a moment before agreeing, “Hmm…I think that sounds good,” she settles, trying and failing to mask her elation.

That’s how Steve ended up, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in hand, dodging barbies and miscellaneous stuffed animals on his way to the living room a few minutes later.

“Have you found a movie yet?” He asks Abbey as he sets the plates down atop the coffee table.

“Yes but–” she jumps on her tiptoes, “I can’t reach it,”

Steve walks over to the towering shelf of VHS tapes in front of her, “Which one are you trying to reach?”

Abbey points at the tape in question, “Home Alone,”

“Alrighty,” Steve says as he grabs it with ease, “Your foods on the table, go sit while I put it in,”

Abbey, for once, does as he asks– bounding over to the coffee table with the excitement typical of a five-year-old who has an adult's permission to break a house rule.

While Steve eyes your VCR, he catches a glimpse of a photo out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause. It’s you, no older than twenty, holding a swaddled baby in a sterile hospital room. He doesn’t recognize the picture as one he’s seen before.

Of course you’ve never seen it before, he thinks, you barely know her. Get a grip.

You’re filled with such youthful brilliance in the shot, despite the underlying weariness of having just given birth; your hair tied messily into a bun at the nape of your neck, sweat beading on your brow bone. It’s just you and Abbey, Steve thinks her father must’ve been the photographer.

He can’t help but think of himself at that age and all the stupid shit he was doing. How, if you had handed him a baby then, he wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do with it– but here you had raised such a bright, healthy daughter and largely alone. He was struck by such a sudden and overwhelming admiration for you that he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mr. H?” Abbey asked, mouth full, “When are we gonna start the movie?”

Her question sends him hurling back to reality. A reality where he’s your daughter’s kindergarten teacher, and the two of you are friendly with each other at best.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

At some point during the movie, once their lunch was reduced to crumbs on empty plates, Abbey had hauled out her box of coloring books and crayons that she had been looking for this morning.

Steve, the less creative of the two, was coloring in a cartoon illustration of a fairy while Abbey was making her own drawing on a piece of white construction paper. The lack of constant chatter is a welcome reprieve, but he knows that Abbey only becomes quiet when she’s particularly concentrated, so he chances a peek to his right at what she’s working on.

She got a death grip on a brown crayon– shaved almost down to the tip– with her tongue sticking ever so slightly between her lips as she focuses intently on her art.

The picture is of three stick figures– two tall and one significantly smaller in between them. It’s set at what looks to be a playground, a bright yellow sun in the sky and blue scribblings around white clouds. Swings, slides and even a little blue dog adorn the rest of the background.

Pleasantly surprised at her artistry, Steve says, “That looks amazing, Ab!”

She’s snapped out of her stupor, her face split with a wide toothless grin. She doesn’t thank him, only lets out a few bashful giggles at his praise and says, “I like yours too,”

“Is that you?” He points at the littlest figure.

“Mhm, see? I made her hair curly like mine!”

“It looks just like you,” he agrees, then draws her attention to the other figures, “Is this your mom and your dad next to you?”

“This is mommy,” she points, “I put her in the blue clothes she wears at work,” he knows she’s referring to your scrubs, but the phrasing makes him chuckle.

“And this is you!” She circles the figure she’s drawn with the tip of her finger. She’s included his voluminous chestnut hair and his silver wire-framed glasses, even one of the stupid striped polos he wears at school. Looking at it now, it’s obvious who it was supposed to be– but it’s so unexpected that he feels his face heat up at the realization.

“Oh, wow, Ab– That’s–” he grapples to find the words to express the juxtaposition he’s found himself in. He’s honored, truly, to be included in this portrait Abbey’s made of herself and her mother– her family– but there’s a gnawing guilt he can’t seem to shake. The fear that, in some way, he’s replacing her father.

“I love it, Ab, thank you,” he smiles fondly at her work, the proud grin she wears slowly melting the flash freeze of trepidation that encased his conscience.

“Can we hang it on the fridge for mommy to see when she gets home?” She asks after a moment.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Around four o’clock, Abbey begins asking what they’re having for dinner. Steve wonders briefly if you always have to deal with her being so ravenous.

“How about we start cooking now? That way it’ll be ready for your mom when she gets home,”

“Okay,” Abbey concurs. Steve wouldn’t consider himself a Michelin star chef by any means, but he can make a mean chicken parmesan.

A trip to the grocery store was needed to grab some ingredients. After scribbling down the required items on a crumpled receipt, and struggling for ten minutes to get Abbey’s carseat in the back of his BMW, they’re on their way.

He meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“Christmas music?” She asks hopefully.

Steve isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas music– Christmas in general, really– but he obliges her request and turns the dial to their local channel, soft bells and a choir of voices begin to flood through the interior of the car. She really is so harmlessly manipulative with her saucer eyes and round button nose, he can’t seem to refuse her anything.

Steve drives more cautiously than he thinks he ever has, even more so than when he was sixteen and learning how to drive with his family’s Pontiac as his father stared harshly at him from the passenger seat. He comes to a full halt at every stop sign, and he never takes his eyes off the road.

After fighting some early rush hour traffic, they make it. Without a second thought, Abbey grasps Steve’s hand while walking through the parking lot. He tries not to look startled at the sudden contact, recalling how she always seems to have a firm grip on your hand in public spaces too. Steve’s just glad she feels comfortable with him.

“Can I help?” Abbey asks as Steve grabs a cart from the corral.

“Course’,” he smiles, “do you wanna grab the ingredients and put them in the cart for me?”

She bounces excitedly, “Sure!”

Wandering through the aisles, Abbey never strayed from Steve’s side. Every time he read off an item, she would dutifully fetch it and throw it into the cart with a little more force than necessary, but Steve didn’t mind.

“Do you live by yourself?” She asks out of the blue as they peruse the store.

“I do,”

“Then how come you know how to cook?”

He laughs at her inquisitive nature, “Well I have to eat don’t I?”

“Yeah…” she ponders, “I guess so,”

“Alright, the last thing we need is breadcrumbs,” he informs her, scanning the shelves.

Like earlier, Abbey attempts to stand on her tiptoes to try and reach the can in question, “I’m getting it,” she mumbles in determination, very much not getting it.

“Here,” Steve says as he lifts her up by her waist like it was second nature to him.

“Got it!” She exclaims, tossing it in with the rest of the groceries. “Can I ride in the cart now?” She yawns with a polite hand over her mouth. He supposes grocery shopping takes a lot out of you when all the shelves are at least five feet taller than your head.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles as he slots her little legs through the designated holes.

Despite the ride home only being about ten minutes long, Abbey manages to doze off– lulled to sleep by the subtle hum of the car's engine. Steve veered as gently as possible into the driveway, careful not to disturb her even though he was about to wake her up anyway.

“Abbey,” he shakes her softly, “we’re home,”

Abbey rouses, but only slightly. She yawns again and stretches with her arms over her head before extending them out, silently motioning with her eyes still closed for Steve to carry her inside.

“Okay, c’mon lazy bones,” he grunts at the angle but lifts her from her car seat nonetheless. After unlocking the door one-handed, he sets her carefully on the couch and covers her with a plush throw blanket before heading back outside for the rest of the groceries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing you notice when you approach your front door is the savory smell of something cooking. Inside, the TV is off and your daughter is sleeping soundly on the couch. Quiet clattering noises flood from the kitchen.

The sleeves of Steve’s burgundy sweater are rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen smells of roasting chicken and mahogany as he stirs a simmering pot of homemade pasta sauce. He’s humming some tune softly under his breath– Bob Segar, you think.

“Hey,” you greet with a grin as you set your bag down on the dining table. Steve turns around to meet you as you ask, “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking?” He replies.

“No, really?” You deadpan back, eliciting an amused chuckle from the man standing at your stove.

“Abbey was asking about dinner,” he pauses, “we were gonna do this whole thing– we were gonna make it for you together, have it ready by the time you got home, but,” he gestures with his arm to the living room where Abbey is napping. Steve Harrington is nothing if not expressive– talking with his hands, eyebrows always either furrowed in concentration or raised in amusement. It’s one of the most charming things about him, you think.

“Well, thank you,” you say, “you didn’t have to do that,” you feel a blush heat your cheeks at how domestic this feels– like you come home to Steve cooking dinner for you and your daughter every night. You can picture it as easily as if it were your actual reality and it leaves you feeling briefly vertiginous. You’re not sure Jeremy ever cooked even one meal for you in the entirety of your relationship.

“The chickens almost done and then I'll get out of your hair,” he assumes a teasing lilt to his voice to disguise the fact that he feels like he’s overstepping– overstaying his welcome or crossing some invisible line.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta at least stick around long enough to see how it came out,”

“You don’t mind?” He asks hesitantly.

“Steve, of course I don’t mind,” honestly, you think you’d start a fire and burn your house to the ground if it meant getting him to stay just a little longer to help you put it out, “plus, I’m sure Abbey’ll be stoked.”

“Alright, well,” he smiles warmly, “it’s ready if you wanna go wake the gremlin up,”

At the table, Abbey insists on sitting next to Steve in the chair across from you.

“This is delicious, Steve,” you compliment.

“Best you ever had?” He teases, but his phrasing makes you choke a little on your pasta.

Abbey makes a twisted face, “The sauce tastes funny.” Saved by the bell.

“Abbey!” you scold playfully, poorly concealing a laugh behind the back of your hand, “Sorry– I think she’s just used to eating Prego,”

“That’s okay– I think she’s right, actually,” he assures you, twisting his expression into something sour and causing Abbey to giggle. His eyes are the color of rich soil as he sends you an oh, so familiar look across the table, communicating another silent thought to you. One that says, I don’t mind how blunt she is, I think it’s endearing.

When dinner is finished, Steve insists on doing the dishes for you too. “You cooked, Steve, let me–” you try to barter.

“--You do enough as it is,” he counters simultaneously.

“You watched my child all day!” You laugh at his stubbornness.

“I do that everyday anyway!” He argues, beginning to fill up the porcelain farmhouse sink with hot, sudsy water.

“At least let me help,” you give him that wide eyed look you always seem to be giving him lately. God, you’re no better than Abbey. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Fine,” he tries to frown but his smirk betrays him in his act of faux annoyance.

After a few minutes of stuffy silence, you ask, “She wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass today, was she?”

“Not any more than usual,” he jokes and a plate slips through his fingers, causing a small splash of water to coat your face in dishwater. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh– Sorry!--” he tries to apologize, but you take your dishwater soaked fingers and flick them in the direction of his own face– small soapy bubbles clinging to his lashes and eyebrows.

“I cannot believe you right now,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There, now we’re even,” you smirk.

“I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“Mommy!” Abbey rushes into the kitchen, “Can Mr. H stay to watch a cartoon before bed?”

“I don’t know, baby, it’s getting late,” you can just barely see the flash of heartbreak in her gaze before Steve interjects, “It’s okay, I don’t mind staying for a little longer,”

You send him a skeptical glance over your shoulder, but he just nods and asks Abbey what she’d like to watch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The end credits for an episode of The Rugrats flashes across the screen, illuminating Abbey’s sleeping face in muted shades of blue and orange. She snores, slumped against Steve’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso. You sit propped against the other arm of the couch watching them intently– trying to memorize the sight before you. You’ve never seen Abbey cradled like this before by anyone else except you. It wasn’t something you felt you craved until recently.

Steve turns, catching you staring but not calling attention to it. He can count on several hands the amount of times he’s done the same to you– Steve Harrington is many things, but he is not a hypocrite.

“Did you know the guy from Devo wrote the theme song for this?” He gestures towards the television.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he replies, “I can’t remember who told me that,”

After a few beats of hushed silence, you say, “Should probably put that one to bed– unless you wanna be here all night,” you try to joke but your voice shakes.

He would if you were sincerely asking. He’d stay right here on this uncomfortably worn sofa, with your daughter whom he has such an affinity for, sleeping against his chest for the next millenia. He’d fossilize here if he could– your presence beside him calm and grounding like an anchor in a storm.

He voices none of this. Instead he says, “Do you want to take her?”

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, “I’ll just come with you.” The three of you slowly make your way to Abbey’s bedroom, Steve carrying her bridal style against his torso and the door creaks on its hinges when Steve pushes it open with his hip. She stirs only a little when he sets her down, but is soothed quickly with a firm palm stroking her back a few times.

The door clicks behind you as Steve leads you both back to the living room.

“I should probably–”

“Do you want–”

You begin to speak at the same time, awkward chuckles leaving both of your nervous lips.

“You first,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was– just gonna ask if you wanted some wine, but I know it’s late–”

“Wine sounds great.” His lips form a line across his face as he grins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Half a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and your hands were tingling from the effort it was taking not to reach out and card your fingers through the hair of the man sitting across from you.

“How come you never called?” He asks suddenly, but not unkindly.

“Hm?”

“You never called– well, not til’ this morning at least,”

“Didn’t know what counted as an emergency, I guess,” you shrug, the alcohol shaking your nerves loose.

He must’ve been feeling in a similar way to you– speaking freely in a way he wouldn’t have before, “Just wanted to talk to you,” he smiles fondly.

“Oh,” you whisper, and when you don’t say anything else, Steve changes the subject.

“I like that photo of you on top of the entertainment center,” he says contemplatively, “you looked really…peaceful,”

“Well, raising a miniature version of yourself tends to age you a bit, I suppose,”

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Always”

“Where was Jeremy in the picture?”

“We always talk about me,” you roll your eyes spiritedly and release a contented sigh, “Tell me why you really came to Maine,”

“Don’t deflect,” he teases.

“C’monnnn,” you draw out the last syllable, “answer,”

“I asked you first,” Steve chuckles.

“Jeremy wasn’t at Abbey’s birth,” you admit, it's immediately like an aching weight removed from the length of your spine– one that's been there consistently for years. “He didn’t even want me to have her,” you scoff humorlessly.

You had told almost no one this before. For the sake of keeping appearances, even after he passed, only your mother and sister knew that Jeremy had pushed for you to terminate your pregnancy when he’d found out; and that only once your daughter was actually born did he want to be involved in her life. The burden felt shockingly easy to lay at Steve’s feet, like someone might confess to a priest. This tender man sitting across from you– whether it was the wine or simply his presence, you aren’t sure– but it felt so effortless to be vulnerable right now. Your soft, white underbelly on display for him to do as he pleases, trusting him to have a gentle touch.

“That fucking sucks,” he knows you well enough by now to understand you’ve never cared for empty platitudes, so he doesn’t bother schooling his bitter, empathetic expression, “M’ sorry,”

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, you say, “Your turn,”

“My old man was an abusive, drunk asshole,” he says frankly, “I don’t know if I ever saw him sober,” he huffs a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “I needed to get out– to see what else there was, you know?” He asks, and you nod, “He died in my sophomore year of college. Didn’t even go to the wake.”

“Well, I’m really glad you ended up in this shithole,” he laughs at that, “I think you’re pretty neat, Harrington,”

“Thanks,” he deadpans, “Juries still out on you,” he pokes your side and you giggle like you’re a damn teenager again.

You swat him lightly on his bicep in retaliation, and before you know it, you’ve both succumbed to a fit of contagious laughter. When it begins to die down, you’re closer to him than you’d been before. It steals the breath from your lungs and your heart thrashes inside your ribcage like a wild animal.

You’re gazing at each other now, heads light from the alcohol and dizzy with proximity. His heavy lidded gaze lands on your lips for a second too long, and then he’s pulling your face flush to his own by the sharp edge of your jaw.

It’s a soft kiss, but it’s maddening nonetheless. His lips are plush and smooth– malleable against yours. You huff a surprised breath of air, but don’t pull away. One of his calloused hands is resting firmly on your waist while the other one snakes up tenderly to hold the back of your head. You feel that familiar itch to bury your fingers in his brown tresses, so finally, you do. What realistically only lasts a moment, feels like hours before he’s pulling away, nearly frightened.

When he looks at you, his doe eyes are wide with fear, glassy with the impending fallout of what he’d just done. He stammers, “I’m sorry–that was–” he runs his hands down the length of his guilt twisted face.

“No– Steve, It’s okay, I–”

“I should go–” he says quickly as he slips his shoes and coat on, not even bothering to tie the laces, he grabs his keys, “I’m sorry I’ll– I’ll see you on Monday,”

He’s closing the door behind him before your mind gets the chance to catch up with your mouth. You wished to tell him that it was okay, that you liked it– that you wanted him to stay and never leave again.

But it’s too late. You’re left alone in the stifling air of your living room, half a bottle of wine on the coffee table and your heart on the floor.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383

divider cred - @cafekitsune

[wolvietxt]

hiiiiiii jay!! ive been having an unhealthy sleeping schedule lately, so i just wanted to know what you think frank would do if he catches you up pulling an all-nighter cause of some uni work when he came home from one of his missions. most especially, when you tell him you’ve done it for three straight nights while he was gone…

FRANK knew something was off the second he stepped into the apartment. it was quiet, too quiet, but not in the way that usually meant safety. the tv wasn’t on, no music played softly from your phone, and you didn’t come running up to him the second he locked the door behind him.  

his gut clenched.  

he slipped off his boots, careful not to track any dirt or blood onto the floor, and listened. he heard it then - the faint sound of typing. quick, rhythmic, desperate.  

with a sigh, he followed it, walking toward the kitchen, where the glow of your laptop screen cast shadows across your face. papers were scattered everywhere, some crumpled, some covered in highlighter. empty redbull cans were scattered around the tabletop. a half-eaten granola bar sat next to an empty coffee cup, and another coffee was in your hand, fingers curled tight around it like a lifeline.  

you didn’t even notice him.  

“sweetheart.” his voice was low, firm.  

you startled, eyes snapping up. he saw the exhaustion in them instantly - red-rimmed, glassy, dark circles bruising your skin.  

“frank,” you breathed, blinking fast like you were trying to clear your vision.  

he didn’t move toward you just yet, but he looked you over, taking in the way your hands trembled around the coffee cup, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever you were doing.  

“what’re you doin’ up?” he asked, though he already had an idea.  

“just… finishing some stuff,” you mumbled, eyes darting back to your laptop. “it’s nothing, really.”  

he glanced at the time on the microwave. 4:12 a.m.  

his jaw ticked.  

“when’s the last time you slept?”  

you hesitated, biting your lip, and he knew right then you were about to say something he wouldn’t like.  

“um … a little bit, here and there,” you finally said, voice too soft, too small.  

frank sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “baby.”  

“it’s fine,” you tried to reassure him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i just needed to catch up on work. it’s been kinda crazy, and i thought, you know, since you were gone, i’d just - ”  

“how long?”  

your mouth opened, closed.  

he took a step forward. “how long you been doin’ this?”  

“…three nights.”  

his nostrils flared.  

“three damn nights?” his voice was sharper now, and you flinched. not out of fear, but because you knew how much he hated this - hated seeing you worn down, pushing yourself past your limits. you’d hate to see him disappointed in you but in your defence, you thought he’d be home a whole lot later.

“i just - i had to, frank,” you whispered. “i got so behind, and i didn’t want you to come back to me all stressed and falling apart, so i just - ”  

his hands were on you before you could finish, tugging you up and out of the chair, wrapping you up tight against him. you didn’t even realize you were crying until he sighed against your hair, feeling the dampness on his shirt.  

“sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something heavy, something that made your chest ache. “you think i care ‘bout any of that? you think i want you doin’ this to yourself?”  

“i just wanted to keep up,” you sniffled, fingers fisting in his jacket. “i didn’t wanna be a mess when you got back.”  

he pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. his eyes, dark and tired but so damn full of love, locked onto yours.  

“you could be the biggest damn mess in the world, and i wouldn’t care. you hear me?” he said, low and firm. “don’t wanna come home to you runnin’ yourself into the ground. don’t wanna see you like this.”  

you nodded, lower lip trembling, and he groaned, pressing a kiss there, then another, then another, like he was trying to fix it, to erase the exhaustion, the stress, the weight you’d been carrying alone.  

“c’mon,” he muttered, tugging you toward the bedroom. “you’re done. no more of this.”  

“but - ”  

he shot you a look. “no buts. you’re gonna sleep.”  

you wanted to protest, but the second you hit the bed, exhaustion slammed into you like a tidal wave. you barely registered the weight of him next to you, pulling you against his chest, hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.  

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispered against your hair, voice soft, warm. “always.”  

and for the first time in three nights, you believed it.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[lewisvinga]

my strong girl | lewis hamilton x fem! chronically ill! reader

summary; after an incident during a race, y/n is sent to the hospital and is upset about missing his race after not attending races for months. fortunately for her, lewis is always understanding

fc; various girls on pinterest

word count; 1k

warnings; hospitals, needles, fainting

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; requested ! lewis was so close to a podium i actually was so upset🙁🙁🙁 anyways, i tried to combine a few of the ideas into this without it being superrrr hectic

masterlist !

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“Are you sure you want to come? You don’t need to feel pressured to do so.” Lewis asked in the soft tone that always brought Y/n comfort.

She sighed as he helped her put on her blue Ralph Lauren cardigan. “I’m sure, Lew. I don’t want to miss your home race.” She huffed, watching him grab her white golden gooses.

“Just be careful today. I hate that I can’t be around you the whole time.” Lewis quietly said. He helps her out on her shoes, securely tying the white laces.

“I know, I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Y/n really tried her best to be careful. She only walked a few minutes to grab stuff around Lewis’ driver's room. If she went longer distances, she used her wheelchair and one of the girlfriends of the drivers would happily walk by her side to accompany her.

While Lewis was doing media duties before the race, she hung out with Carmen and Lily. The two girls had lunch but Y/n wasn’t hungry so she decided to not eat. A big mistake for her.

She could only chat with Lewis for a few minutes before he had to get into his car. A couple of good luck kisses later, and his car was being driven out of the garage for the warm-up lap.

Silverstone was always special. It was Lewis’s home race and most importantly, his last home race with Mercedes. He was starting in pole after a fantastic qualifying session. The rainy weather allowed him to push the car to its limits.

Y/n started to feel a bit strange, like something was up but she ignored it for anxiety as the race began. Lewis had a fantastic start to the race and maintained being in first.

Around halfway through the race, Y/n felt well enough to get up from her wheelchair in the usual spot in the back of the garage. Although she usually refrained from walking due to getting tired so easily as a result of her illness, she decided that she felt well enough to at least a couple of steps in.

It was the final five laps and Lewis was still in first with a large gap between him and Charles, his future teammate, who was in second. However, instead of feeling joy about the British driver leading the race and being close to his 104th win, she started to feel like something was off.

Y/n needed to sit back down but her wheelchair was in the farthest corner of the Mercedes garage. Carmen had called out her name in concern but it sounded muffled as she struggled to stand upright. Before she knew it, everything went dark.

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The sound of beeping and the feeling of a familiar pair of fingers rubbing over her hand was what Y/n first noticed as she gained consciousness. The bedsheets crinkled as she slowly moved around, hearing a soft shush as she whined.

“Easy there, my love.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she’s met with Lewis’s deep brown eyes. She immediately noticed he was in a pair of sweats with a trophy sitting by his side.

“Did I miss it?” She asked with a raspy voice. She knew the answer of course. A wave of guilt washed over her. Lewis immediately noticed her furrowed-up eyebrows as she glanced at the iv sticking out of her hand.

“I care more about whether or not you’re okay, my love.” He sighed, gently cupping her cheek to make her look at him. “This win was for you, my strong girl.”

“Not strong enough to last 5 minutes standing up.” Her angry mumble made him let out a chuckle. He leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.

“Doctors said you had low blood sugar. You hit your head, no concussion but they want to keep you here overnight just in case something happens due to your illness.”

Y/n huffed at the mention of staying overnight at the hospital. Sure, she was used to it due to her illness, but she just wanted to be in the comfort of her home in the arms of Lewis. Her furrowed-up eyebrows made him laugh again.

She hadn’t noticed an overnight back resting next to the first-place trophy on the ground. He reached for it and pulled out a sketchbook, a few tubes of paint, and a couple of paintbrushes. Her previous furrowed-up eyebrows immediately relaxed. She relaxed back into the pillows as he opened up the sketchbook to an empty page.

Painting was once a passion of Y/n. She has grown quite a large platform for her work. She adored being able to translate everything in her mind onto a canvas with the stroke of her paintbrush.

Unfortunately due to her illness causing pain in her hand joints, she had to give up the intricate paintings. On occasions when she found herself stuck in the hospital, Lewis would always bring her sketchbook. Although she couldn’t do the once complex strokes and liked, she could do a simplified version.

“Lew,” Her voice was soft and frail. Her hand reached out to grasp his. “You didn’t have to do this. You should be celebrating your win.” She mumbled, slowly reaching over to tuck a braid that had fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear.

“Nonsense,” Lewis looked up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I much rather be relaxed and painting here with you than be out with drunk people who only want to be around me for the pictures.”

Y/n sighed as the corner of her lips curled into a smile. He handed her a paintbrush before squeezing a couple of colors on the small plastic palette he had brought. He leaned over, cupping her cheek in pulled her in close. He gently kissed her plump lips and couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you, my strong girl.”

“And I love you, my 104x race winner.”

[stxary]

Touch || 01

❤︎‬ pairing : jungkook x fem!reader

‪‪❤︎‬ genre : non idol au, college au, brothers best friend au, childhood enemies to lovers, love triangle, smut / angst / fluff

‪‪❤︎‬ word count : 2k

‪‪❤︎‬ warnings : reader is 20, jk is 22. reader n jk are both health majors ( reader- nursing, jk- medicine ) jk is an asshole, reader hates him. bickering (lots more to come..) umm that's it for this chapter lmk if I missed anything !

❤︎‬ a/n : hi :) im back after almost two months.. wow.. i hope this series im starting helps make up for inactivity !! ive had this idea on my mind for a while tbh, i just didnt know how to execute it but i finally had motivation yay ! i think ill probably keep this short, maximum 10 chapters just in case i disappear again.. ill probably keep the word count on the lower side just so its not a hassle to read too. anyways enough of my yapping, i hope you enjoy !! ^_^

“I’d like you to be my teacher’s aide.”

See, now those weren’t the words you were expecting to hear when your professor told you he wanted to speak with you after class.

You thought that he was going to speak to you about your grades. Maybe you didn’t do well on the last research paper you turned in. Or maybe he found out you helped that girl cheat on her test that one at the beginning of the year.

So hearing your professor ask you to be his teacher’s aide caught you off guard.

You weren’t completely opposed to the idea. God knew you could use the money.

You just weren’t sure you wanted to deal with the students that would come up to you blaming you for their bad grades, when they didn’t even do the work. But then again, the money was nice. You didn’t have time for a real job, and your lifestyle was rather expensive. Your brother Namjoon was getting fed up with paying for almost all of your stuff.

That’s the only reason you accepted the job, because you thought about how said brother Namjoon would be on your ass and give you one of his lectures about how he wasn’t your father and you were perfectly capable of providing for yourself.

When you accepted the job though, you thought you would just have to grade papers, maybe help make lesson plans and PowerPoints. You didn’t know you would have actually to tutor students.

Right now, you wanted to hit your professor for not telling you who you had to tutor. Not just once, like with the other kids. No, he said you would probably have to tutor this guy for the whole semester.

It would’ve been fine, if it was literally any other person. But no, of course the person you had to tutor was Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You really didn’t like Jungkook. You haven’t since you were kids. You guys were complete opposites. As a kid, you were more on the quiet side. You only focused on school, the thing you were interested in the moment, and your few friends. While Jungkook was everything you hated. He was loud, arrogant. He was the type of kid you would beg your teacher to move if you got sat next to him.

You tried to like him, but he made it near impossible. From the fights you had in elementary school, to the pranks he would play in middle school, to the way he would bicker with you just to get a rise out of you in high school. He was one of the most insufferable people you knew.

The only reason why you dealt with Jungkook for so long is because he was Namjoon’s best friend. For the longest time you wondered how Namjoon could even tolerate him. Yet, they were inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

As you got older, Jungkook (mostly) grew out of his antics. Now that you were in college, you barely talked. You tried to avoid him as much as you could. But in the few times you did interact with him, he would just make teasing remarks and small comments about little things.

Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

“And there.. Jungkook, can you please focus so we can get this over with?” you huffed out, setting your pen down.

He was slouched in his chair, paying attention to everything but what you were trying to teach him. He was impossible. It was like trying to teach Algebra to a baby.

He groaned, sitting up to finally look at the page. He skims over the picture, which was an x-ray of a body highlighting the skeletal system. “Fine.” he said reluctantly.

You pointed back at the page, hoping that when you spoke your irritation wasn’t evident. You knew he was acting dumb just to get a rise out of you, and fuck him, because it was working.

“Okay, what are the different types of bone cells and what do they do?” you asked, glancing at his face. His eyes were squinted, as if he was deep in thought. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was actually in thought. Before he gave the stupid ass answer he did.

“…are all cells in your body not the same? I thought animal cells were the same.”

You had to run a hand over your face and take a deep breath to prevent yourself from screaming at him in this quiet library. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” you asked.

The thing is, Jungkook wasn’t dumb. No, he was actually really smart. It was just the fact that he never did work. Or even attended the classes. He skipped his classes often, going to do god knows what. (Most of the time it was to meet up with and sleep with girls.)

He smiled at you, that damn cocky smile that always made you want to strangle him. “Because I like seeing how angry you get. You’re cute when you’re mad, angel.”

You glared at him. You were used to his flirty comments, because you knew he never meant them. He only said them to get a rise out of you, so you never showed a reaction.

“I told you not to call me that.” you muttered, your voice snappier than before.

He tilted his head, his smile growing bigger. “I know. But I’m still gonna call you it.”

The nickname probably wouldn’t bug you so much if it wasn’t for the fact that he only used it in a teasing way. Ever since middle school, he would jab at the fact that you were this perfect child. He would call you angel, mary, probably ten other nicknames that you couldn’t even remember.

You took a deep breath, trying not to cause a scene. You did not want to get kicked out of the library just because Jungkook was acting like a baby.

“Let’s try this again.” you spoke, your voice calculated, slow. “What do osteoblasts do?”

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking at you. “I have no idea what those are.”

Your eye twitched. You knew you shouldn’t have been expecting more from him, considering he never went to class, but this was just outrageous.

“Do you not.. ask people what happens in class after the fact? Jungkook, how the hell do you expect to pass this class when you don’t even show up?”

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I don’t need a lecture from you, missy.”

“No, you need to get your shit together. You wanna get your degree and get the hell up out of here, don’t you?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated, letting out a hum. “Hm, I dunno. I kinda like being able to have all the girls I want. You know, most of them aren’t uptight bitches like you-“

“Okay, you know what? We’re done here. Bye.” you said abruptly, having enough of him for the day. Right about then you were remembering why you hated him so much when you were younger.

He sat his chair down on all four legs and whined. “Oh, come on, angel. Don’t be like that. Don’t you get paid per session?”

You ignored him, continuing to pack your things before storming out of the private study room. You seriously could not deal with that man. And you had to tutor him for the rest of the semester. Yeah, fuck your life.

“Jungkook told me you’re his new tutor, said that you flipped out and ran away earlier.”

Namjoon’s voice came from the front door as he brought in the bags of food you ordered.

“Whatever. I didn’t flip out, I left because I think I would have punched him in the face if I listened to him talk for one more minute.” you corrected, getting up from the couch to help him bring in the bags.

He snorted, starting to take boxes out of the bags. The smell of the food, both sweet and savory filled the kitchen, making your stomach growl.

“I can’t believe I have to tutor him for the rest of the damn semester. Can you believe he’s already failed the class once? What an idiot!!” you ranted, shaking your head as you slammed your hand down on the counter.

“He can be smart. When he wants to be. And when he actually goes to class.” Namjoon replies.

“I know. That’s what pisses me off. How is he always skipping class to meet girls? Then he acts clueless, and he only does it because he wants to see me angry. He said it’s cute!! He doesn’t even take me seriously!” you grumbled, snatching your box of food before plopping back onto the couch. Namjoon followed, watching your outburst in slight amusement. He had always thought you and Jungkook’s rivalry was funny.

“You know you’ve gotta get along with him to get the money. I already told you-“

“I know.” you groaned, shutting him up. “Ugh, but can’t you just keep buying me everything? I liked it when it was like that?” you whined.

“No. Because you ask me for stupid shit.”

“What? No I don’t!”

“Yes you do.”

“Name one stupid thing I’ve made you buy.”

Namjoon pauses, staring at you, before beginning to list things. “Those birria bombs off Tiktok shop, that skincare off of Temu that you never even got, a pair of headphones when you already had one-“

“Okay, that’s enough! I can justify all of those!!” you lift your hands up in a defensive gesture. Namjoon narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue.”

“Cmon, I really couldn’t turn down the birria bombs. They were on sale! You can’t even deny that dinner was good for 3 nights when we got them.” you pointed at him, and he just stared back at you.

“Then the skincare.. it was a full set. I really had to get it. It was supposed to come with pimple patches and all! Fuck Temu. And-and the headphones.. I needed a backup. Then a backup for the backup.”

“You have a spending addiction.” Namjoon said, after just blankly staring at you for a few long moments.

“No I don’t.” you denied, taking a bite of your chicken.

“Please get yourself a boyfriend. Preferably a really rich one, so he can waste his money on buying you pointless shit instead of me. I can’t remember the last time my wallet hasn’t been crying for a break.” he says, fake sorrow in his voice.

“Ugh, fuck you.” you pout.

Namjoon laughed, reverting the conversation back to the original topic. “Seriously ___, you’ve gotta get along with him. You can’t back out of it. The semester only goes by faster when you don’t completely hate him.”

You sighed heavily. He was right. You were never going to get through this semester if you didn’t find a way to get on good terms with Jungkook.

“Really, he’s nice-“

“No he’s not!!” you interrupt, sitting up straight on the couch. “He’s an asshole!”

“Because you’ve been an asshole to him.” Namjoon deadpans. You furrow your brows. Of course you’ve been an asshole to him! He’s been one to you since you were kids!

“Because he’s been one to me!!” you say defensively, and Namjoon just gives you a look.

“So do you see the cycle?” he asks, calmly. A complete contrast to your tone. But you were always like this when you complained about Jungkook. He irked a nerve in you that nobody else could. It honestly was a talent.

Namjoon did have a point. If you continued down this road, you were just going to go in circles with Jungkook like you’ve been doing your whole life. You slouched down, not even responding to Namjoon’s question. He knew you were defeated when you just took another bite of your chicken.

He took a sip of his drink, before speaking again. In that same, calm tone. It always amazed you how calm he could be when you were on the verge of going insane.

“Talk to him. Have a normal conversation with him. He can be nice if you can be nice.” You turned your head to look at him, giving him a pleading look. When he just stared back at you, you let out a big sigh.

“Fine.”

Fuck Jungkook. You were getting through this semester. Whether he wanted to cooperate or not. You were tutoring him, and you were getting that damn money. So if that meant attempting to be nice to him, you could do that. Even if it felt like it would be the death of you.

© stxary 2025 , all rights reserved .

[gabseyoo]

I PICK MY POISON, AND IT'S YOU — GETŌ SUGURU

content: dark content (?), modern!au, ex-boyfriend!suguru, female reader, toxic relationship, jealousy, possesive behavior, both of them are toxic, reader is manipulative, suguru carries reader, smut, unprotected and kinda rough sex. word count: 2,4k.

note: i needed some drama after all the fluff ive been wirting lately :p, title inspired by the song poison by rita ora.

The music was loud, the bass thrumming deep in your chest, drowning out everything else. Laughter, voices singing off-key, bodies pressed together, a blur of heat and movement. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the cloying sweetness of perfume.

There was nothing like a nightclub on a Friday night.

And there was nothing like the satisfaction of knowing you were here, looking good, feeling good—while he was probably still seething over your last conversation.

Maybe it was your fault for answering your ex’s texts, for keeping that door cracked open even after you were the one who walked away two weeks ago. You told yourself it was out of politeness, out of guilt, out of habit. But deep down, you knew the truth. A part of you wanted to see how far you could push him. A part of you liked that he still cared enough to get angry.

It wasn’t like you owed him anything. He didn’t deserve an explanation when you told him you wouldn’t be seeing him tonight. You were busy, simple as that. And he hated it. Hated the idea of not knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were with.

Maybe that’s why you did it. Maybe you wanted him to wonder. To imagine you wrapped around someone else. You told yourself you didn’t care what he thought anymore—but then why did it feel so good to know he was losing his mind over you?

The night had been good so far. Drinks, dancing, your friends happy, a cute guy who asked for your number. You felt like you were just living the moment. 

But then, while waiting for another drink at the bar, your phone buzzed.

One glance at the screen, and suddenly, the room felt too hot. Your stomach twisted.

Suguru:

So…

Do you go out?

Or shall I go in?

Your grip on your phone tightened.

You:

?

Suguru:

You have 30 seconds to go out of that fucking club.

If not, I’ll come in and get you.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

You:

Fuck you.

But you didn’t put your phone away. You didn’t block his number. You just stared at the screen, pulse racing, waiting.

Because the worst part?

A sick part of you wanted to see if he’d actually do it.

And he did.

You barely had time to react before a strong hand wrapped around your arm, yanking you back from the bar.

“What the—?” You spun around, breath hitching, and there he was.

Geto Suguru.

Looking all handsome and composed, except for his eyes—burning with barely contained rage.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You hissed, trying to yank your arm back. But his grip tightened as he started pulling you through the crowded club.

“You keep walking before I lose it in here.” He muttered under his breath, voice low and dangerous.

People were dancing, drinking, laughing—completely oblivious to the way he was dragging you through the chaos.

“Suguru, let me go!” You protested, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

He didn’t answer. Just kept going, jaw clenched, muscles tense.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold air hit your skin, sharp in contrast to the heat of the club. But the chill did nothing to calm the fire simmering between you.

You dug your heels into the pavement, forcing him to stop. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped, twisting your arm in his grip. “If you think I’m leaving with you, you’re insane.”

“Keep walking.” He ordered, turning to face you, his grip unwavering.

“No!” You shot back, yanking harder. “My friends are in there. You can’t just show up and drag me out like this!”

He exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. “I just did.”

Your chest heaved with frustration. “You’re a fucking lunatic! You don’t control me—”

Before you could finish, he moved.

A gasp left your lips as he bent down, hooked an arm around your thighs, and in one swift motion, lifted you over his shoulder.

“What the—Suguru! Put me down!” You shrieked, pounding your fists against his back as he started toward the parking lot.

“Keep fighting me, and I’ll throw you in the trunk.” He warned, voice calm, but you knew him well enough to hear the underlying threat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You wriggled, kicking your legs, but his grip was solid. “You’re insane! Let me go, you asshole!”

“After the shit you pulled tonight?” He scoffed. “Not a fucking chance.”

You could feel the heat of his body, the rise and fall of his breath against your stomach. People outside the club were watching, but no one stopped him. Maybe they thought you were just a drunk couple messing around. Maybe they just didn’t care.

Your nails dug into his back. “Suguru, I swear to God—”

“Swear all you want.” He said, smirking slightly as he reached his car. “You’re coming with me.”

You knew you should be fighting harder. Screaming. Doing anything but letting him shove you into the passenger seat and slam the door shut. But instead, you just sat there, seething, your heart pounding as he got behind the wheel and started the car. 

What the hell just happened?

Your breaths were shallow, uneven. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, your mind racing to catch up.

You turned your head, glaring at him. Dressed in black, long hair tied in a loose bun, sharp jaw clenched, muscles tense against the steering wheel. The faint scent of his cologne filled the car—dark, heady, familiar. The kind of scent that used to make your knees weak.

Yeah, he was hot. Infuriatingly hot. But that didn’t take away from the rage boiling inside you.

“You’re a fucking psycho.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you even find me? I didn’t post anything.”

Nothing. No reaction. He just kept driving, his knuckles tightening around the wheel.

You recognized the road. You knew where he was taking you.

“We’re not even together anymore, Suguru.” You snapped. “You don’t have any right to do this.”

Still, silence.

That only pissed you off more.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna ignore me now?” You leaned closer, deliberately pushing his buttons. “You show up like some caveman, drag me out of the club like I belong to you, and now you’re just gonna sit there like a fucking mute?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning bone-white.

You smirked, knowing you were getting to him. “You’re such a—”

“A what?!” He exploded, slamming both hands against the wheel. The sharp crack of skin on leather made you flinch. “I’m a what? Say it. Finish the fucking sentence.”

You had a big mouth, always did. But seeing him this angry—this completely unhinged—stole the words from your lips.

“Huh? Cat got your tongue?” He scoffed, his laugh humorless, bitter. “You think I don’t know what you were doing in there? Hanging around with those slutty friends of yours who go out just to get fucked? You think I don’t fucking know that?”

Your jaw clenched. “Don’t talk about my friends like that—”

“I swear to fucking God—” He cut you off, voice low and dangerous.  “If I find out you let someone else touch you tonight, I’ll kill him.”

His words hung heavy in the air, dark and possessive.

You should’ve been scared. Maybe part of you was. But another part—the part that had been conditioned by him, twisted by him—felt something else.

No one else had touched you, that is a fact. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t.

Suguru was buried too deep beneath your skin, wrapped too tightly around your mind. The idea of someone else’s hands on you made you feel nothing but disgust. But you would never tell him that.

Instead, you forced out a scoff, rolling your eyes, acting like his words didn’t affect you. “You’re insane.”

His gaze flicked to you briefly, something unreadable flashing behind his anger. “And you’re fucking stupid if you thought I wouldn’t find you.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling too exposed.

“How did you?” You muttered, almost regretting the question as soon as it left your lips.

Suguru let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’ll always find you.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “Psycho.” 

At that moment, your phone buzzed. You glanced down at the screen, feeling your stomach turn with fear when you saw the unknown number. 

Suguru’s eyes flickered toward you. “Who the fuck is texting you this late?”

You quickly turned the phone over in your lap. “Probably my friends, asking where I went.”

His gaze darkened. “Unlock it.”

Your grip tightened around the device. “No.”

He scoffed. “No?”

You swallowed. “Yeah. No. You don’t get to—”

Without warning, he snatched the phone from your hands.

“Suguru, what the fuck?!” You lunged for it, but he held it out of reach, using one hand to drive while his thumb swiped across the screen. His expression shifted the second he saw the messages.

Unknown Number:

Hey, did you leave?

I was hoping to see you again.

You're really pretty, I’d love to get to know you more.

A deadly silence filled the car.

Then, without thinking twice, Suguru pressed the call button.

“Suguru, don’t—”

Too late. The dial tone rang once before the guy picked up.

Suguru’s voice was eerily calm, dangerously low as he said, “You text my girlfriend ever again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Then he hung up.

You stared at him, stunned. “What is wrong with you?”

Suguru threw the phone into your lap, his grip back on the wheel as he clenched his jaw. “Why the fuck is some guy asking where you are? Huh?”

You scoffed. “Maybe because I was having a normal fucking night before you showed up and ruined it.”

“A normal night?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Flirting with some random asshole who thinks he can have what’s mine? That’s normal to you?”

“I’m not yours!” 

His eyes flicked to you, dark and burning. “Say that again.”

You held his gaze, heart hammering. “I’m. Not. Yours.”

Ten minutes later, the car was silent except for the heavy sound of your breathing. The tension from the fight still lingered, thick and suffocating, but somehow, it had twisted into something else. 

You weren’t in your seat anymore. You were naked on his lap, knees pressed into the leather, your hands tangled in his hair as you rode him. His fingers dug into your waist as he guided your movements on his cock. 

His lips were on yours—angry, desperate, claiming. He kissed you and fucked you like he was still mad, like he wanted to punish you for the argument, for the texts, for everything that made him lose control. And you let him. You wanted him to.

It was toxic. Twisted. Something you couldn’t even recognize anymore.

You didn’t know when it happened—when what had started as a healthy, loving relationship slowly turned into something more complicated. When things shifted from being about genuine affection to something darker, more intense.

You both fell into this pattern, this cycle of breaking up and getting back together, pushing each other to the edge, testing each other’s limits. No matter how much you fought, no matter how many times you told yourself this was the last time, you never really wanted to leave. And he knew that.

It wasn’t healthy, but it was all you knew. And, in a way, you both liked it. It was a game you played too well. A habit neither of you wanted to quit.

You moaned when he hit over and over again that sweet spot inside you. With every movement of your hips, your skins rubbed together, stimulating your clit and making you see stars. It felt so good, everything about Suguru felt so fucking good. 

“You make me fucking insane.” He muttered against your lips, his grip tightening as he began to move his hips, ramming you with more force that almost made you scream. “You know that?”

“I know.” You managed to say, digging your nails against the skin of his shoulders, feeling how you were approaching your climax. 

His hands slid down to your thighs, squeezing the flesh until it hurt, “Do you like pushing me? Seeing how far I’ll go?”

“No.”

He let out a chuckle, and with his lips against your ear, he whispered, “Liar.”

Suguru slapped your ass, hard enough until he was sure he will leave a mark. That rough treatment pushed you over the edge. You met his hard thrusts with your hips, almost screaming as you began to cum around his cock. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” He praised, laughing at how you fell apart in his arms. 

Your head rested against his shoulder and one of his hands went to the back of your neck to hold you there while the other wrapped around your waist, taking strength to thrust deeper and harder, ignoring how you began to shake with overstimulation. 

It was a matter of seconds before he came inside you. 

When you felt him fill you, and your breaths mingled as you both came down from that state of ecstasy you were both in, you realized how much you had missed him. 

A sharp exhale left him before he pulled you closer, chest to chest, forehead pressed to yours. His lips hovered over yours, teasing, tormenting.

He kissed you again, slower this time, but just as intense. Like he was reminding you. Like he needed you to understand that no matter how much you fought, no matter how much you tried to pull away—this was always where you’d end up. Right back in his arms.

You let your fingers trail down his jaw, memorizing the sharp lines, the way his skin felt beneath your touch. And then, the words slipped out.

“I love you.”

Suguru’s smirk was slow, dangerous. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered with something twisted—something that told you he already knew. That he never doubted it. You could fight, you could push each other to the brink, but at the end of the day, neither of you weren’t going anywhere.

“Me too.” He murmured, voice low.

Then, without warning, his hand shot out, fingers curling around your chin, forcing you to look at him. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing against your jaw like a silent threat.

“But keep playing this fucking game with me…” He whispered, his breath hot against your lips. “And you won’t like how it ends.”

[cloudyskydreams]

SO on period UT,UF,US,HT!

Ive had this sitting in my notes for awhile wasn't super proud of it still ain't but I wanted to post something, I just had to slap the HT brothers on and boom new post.

Also I've been wanting to write swapfell but I don't know the difference between that and fellswap or really their personalities cause it's so different for each fanfic so if someone could pls explain 🙏

Anyways here y'all go hope you enjoy!

Undertale:

Sans:

I feel like sans is pretty knowledgeable so you didn't have to explain it to him. He takes it pretty maturely it's a natural part of life. The puns the horrible puns. He has so many specifically for this time of the month. He's always got your comfort snack on hand in his jacket pockets. He doesn't really change much he'll get off his ass if you ask him to but he sticks by your side mostly and lazes out cuddled with you while watching shows. Pretty good at getting products and snacks you might like he likes to get you some new snacks to try with him and he's good at guessing what you might like.

Papyrus:

This man is prepared. After you tell him what it is he researches it and WOWIE he wishes he just asked you to explain but now he's over prepared with knowledge! He has hot water bottles and weighted blankets at the ready. Any snacks you want, heck you want a whole meal? He's on it and it's prepared with extra love. He carries around your products for you and always has pain medicine in his bags. Pretty good at picking them up from the store too and has no shame getting them.

Underfell:

Red:

You gotta explain it to him and this man is bewildered for a bit. ya bleed from there for how long??? every month?! He's a little impressed?? Last he checked humans weren't supposed to lose huge amounts of blood but you're treating it like it's a normal thing. After he gets over his initial shock he'll try and help the best he can which is a little awkwardly. He makes a little nest for you out of blankets and pillows and makes sure you're comfortable. He and his magic run warm so he'll lay on your stomach and cuddle to help with cramps, pet his head and he might purr. He's pretty confused about products def one to send Babe what's your pussy size.

Edge:

He's aware, he's done his research on his own when you were ovulating about the human "mating cycle". Not a fun experience but he takes it in stride. He listens to what you need and trys to deliver. Massages for sore muscles and heating pads for cramps. He'll make you comfort food while you relax watching a show and join you afterwards for some cuddles. He's pretty good at getting products for you and takes the ones you like into consideration but he's always looking for better healthier alternatives for you.

Underswap:

Stretch:

Knows about it (blue taught him when he found out and Stretch showed interest in humans)and is a little awkward(traumatized from the talk with Blue). Hate to say it Stretch doesn't really know what to do he's not grossed out he just doesn't know how to handle it. He tries his best to be comforting giving snacks, heating pads, and cuddles. He's so awkward going to the store to get products plays it cool but has no idea what he's doing and definitely gets the wrong thing after his mind blanks while staring at all the products for too long. You just gotta train him he'll get better.

Blue:

Also knows and he's handling it alot better. He takes it in stride and understands the biggest part is you're uncomfortable and he's going to do his best to help with that. He takes care of chores you don't want to do, makes you comfort meals, and always has a heating pad ready. Has so many two player comfort games lined up for you guys, he has stuff to do but most of his work stuff can be done at home! Which means he'll just be a shout away if you need anything . Pretty good at getting products and is one to carry some around in his bag just in case when you guys go out.

HorrorTale:

Axe:

You have to explain it to him… Multiple times. He's confused as to why you smell like blood, he likes the smell but he's confused for a bit until he writes a note about it. He will not remember which products to get unfortunately. He's so confused staring at them you'll have to instruct him very clearly over a call and he still probably grabs the wrong one. Cuddles are supreme he's a giant so he'll engulf you in his form and his purrs practically shake your whole body. It's like a free massage chair whenever you want. He sticks closer by your side during this time of month knowing blood means your wounded and his protective urges flare up.

Willow:

You'll also have to explain it to him and he's extremely worried when he smells blood. Even more so when he learns how long you bleed, he knows how much blood a human can loose and it worries him you're losing so much. After you explain it's a normal thing and a part of life he calms down slightly. He cleans and cooks a lot when stressed or worried so you constantly have something to munch on and you don't have to worry about any chores. He stays over stocked up on supplies, he doesn't like going out in public very often but for this he will because he deems it important enough. It's why he stocks up so much when he goes out. Mother hens over you hard and you might have to pull him into cuddles to get him to relax for a bit.

[knight-of-flowerss]

I am tooo addicted to Trucker Cregan being a dad, imagining you being really sick with the twins or later on it being a difficult pregnancy and him stepping up more and having to wrangle his crotch goblins as you put them lmaooo and he complains but lowkey bonds with them a ton and misses them more when he has to go back to work (especially gilly but dont tell her brothers)

OMG YESS AWEEE (and I'm loving how people are catching on to calling his kids crotch goblins 😭)

IM SO SORRY THESE ARE TAKING FOREVER TO WRITE IVE BEEN SO NOT MOTIVATED AND I HAVE TO GO INTO HOSPITAL AND STUPID COLLEGE AND LIFE SHIT 😞😞😞 I promise I love y'all these are just so bad they seem like I don't, I'm sorry 😖☹️

Dad!Trucker!Cregan Stark x Pregnant!Reader + Their crotch goblins

MASTERLIST

Cregan was less than happy about the idea of taking care of his kids while you were going through the last painful leg of your pregnancy.

He was miserable to say the least.

So the luck of him getting any action was already nearly out the window, but if he asked nicely you'd probably blow him. But now that he's got these four cock blocks hanging on his every move, yeah, that luck is six feet under.

Gilly loved him but maybe too much, she always wanted to be with daddy and do whatever daddy's doing. He loved her to bits but it was getting old real fast whenever he just wanted to drink a beer in peace.

Rickon was probably the easiest. The shy boy was always either sat next to Cregan on the couch watching whatever 'football' (I'm putting it in quotations 'cause fuck y'all Americans how dare yous call that football. ☹️🫵) show was on, Rickon didn't even like 'football', it was just the only time he got to sit with his daddy without his siblings interfering, or he was sat on the bed next to you and showing you how much he's learned in school and showing off how much he can read and write.

Ned was the most annoying. The little shit wouldn't give him a moments peace. Once, Cregan was kissing Ned's head as he tucked him in and the fucker launched himself up and bit down on his Adam's apple. Yeah, that shit hurt. He can't even go 'yeah, he's a pain in the ass, but I love him'. To Cregan, it's 'He's a pain in the fucking ass and my girlfriend said I have to love him so'.

And Denny. The fucking prick that loves his momma more. He's two, so you can pretty much assume how much Cregan hated that, especially with all the screaming and crying every time Cregan tried to pick him up.

He really didn't want to deal with them. Like, really. But he saw the condition you were in. He knew you couldn't handle them by yourself in the last leg of your already painful pregnancy.

The first few days were.. eventful..

Drawings all over the walls, dirty dishes everywhere, dirty clothes strewn across the kids rooms and toys thrown around throughout the house. Cregan even had drawings in felt pen all over his bare back since he accidentally fell asleep before the kids.

This carried on for a few days until he got used to them, learnt who liked what.

Gilly loved pancakes with honey and lemon juice but no sugar. Rickon waffles slathered in chocolate spread covered in sugar and a various assortment of fruits on top. Ned was the one that decided he wanted to be fancy and his favourite were blueberry pancakes with jelly on top. Denny just ate anything infront of him to be honest.

Gilly loved pink skirts but hated pink dresses. She'd rather have a green dress, weirdly. But no green top. And she adores her yellow, sparkly wellies, she'll wear them wherever she goes with whatever outfit she wears, no matter if it clashes or not.

Rickon, like everyone expects I suppose, loves those sophisticated shorts. You know, the ones that the rich kids wear on Easter with the button up striped blue and white shirt with a navy bow tie and suspenders. Yeah, he'd rock that whole outfit everyday if he could, much to Cregan's dismay.

Ned just wears shorts and whatever shirt you pick for him, the same with Denny, even though he'd shimmy off those shorts halfway through the day.

He learnt that Gilly was scared of thunder, so was Ned, Rickon was scared of rabbits weirdly and Denny was fearless, I think he's yet to develop fear. Wait, no, I guess you could argue he's scared of Cregan but even Cregan himself can't tell if Denny's scared of him or just hates him lmao.

He slowly started to realise why and how people actually love their kids. I mean, how can he not look at them after spending a month and a half with them and think not?

And after the twins were born, it was a plateful. Seriously. Taking care of two demanding newborns and three demanding kids alongside a weird little shy one who just kinda stands in the corner, it was a lot.

And when Cregan had to return back to work after a month since the twins were born, he was sad on the inside. He was going to miss getting jumped on and getting the wind knocked out of him each morning by Ned. Getting stickers placed on him to 'make him more pretty' by Gilly. Getting given evil looks by just existing from Denny. Rickon's side eyes whenever he sits with him, making sure his daddy was still happy and okay that he was there with him. He even missed the two newborns, the two pains in his ass, the two who keep both you and him up at night.

He secretly missed all his kids but he openly missed you, well, openly in front of his kids, never anyone else. He's still a fucking bastard at the end of the day. Your bastard.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon

[endereies]

LEERING AND STEERING - MS

Warnings - Racer!Matt x Starter!Reader, illegal street racing, suggestive language, harassment, small fight Summary - Matt can't stand when someone harasses you Word count - 3.4k Author's notes - Ride or Die is back! lets go! I wasn't going to post this for a while HOWEVER my project that im working is slightly delayed so consider this a filler. Ive had this idea on my mind for ages bc lets be real, we love when Matt protects a girl (even if they arent together). As always, no copying or inspiration without permission, pretty typical stuff! happy reading MWAH love you angels.

The night was still young, the sun having just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a dusky glow in the sky. You sat on the hood of a stranger's car, your legs crossed delicately. After all, they had to earn that view. The man who owned the car let his arm slip from around your waist as he turned to speak with someone you almost would have pegged as a driver—if not for the way he carried himself. Tyler had always been full of personality, more comfortable managing races than behind the wheel of one. When he wasn’t handling the chaos of the tracks, you could find him tinkering in the garage, a coffee always within reach.

"Yo, Ty! When's this race starting? I’ve got thirty large riding on this shit," His voice cut through the crowd’s growing impatience. Before Tyler could answer, the group around him grew restless, murmurs turning into shouts after the ten-minute delay. Without missing a beat, Tyler paced back to the trio of cars lined up, arms wide as he gestured toward an empty patch of black asphalt. "You got a fourth, brother? If not, you're gonna be waiting a while."

Tyler tilted his head, staring pointedly at the empty space. You slid off the hood of the car, moving toward a small group of girls who were already making deals with the racers.

The night air was cool but not unbearable, and you were grateful for it, especially as last-minute changes to the race list left you and a few others leaning against a crumbling wall. The girl next to you was someone you’d crossed paths with a few times, friendly enough to share the end of a joint.

"What’s taking these assholes so long?" You exhaled the smoke from your drag, swirling around you as you spoke, not caring where it went.

"Don’t get your panties in a twist, darlin’. They’re switching racers. Logan got into a fight again." She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight against the bricks.

"Ace?" You asked, knowing exactly who she meant. Logan was infamous around these parts—his name often echoed even when you weren’t at the track. He’d racked up win after win, and his car was a beast, modified to the max. Nitrous oxide flowed through his veins as much as it did through the car’s engine, boosting the horsepower to insane levels. Once he pulled ahead, there was no catching him. His reputation was built on his car's brutal power, and while everyone hated him, no one could deny the raw violence of his ride.

"Yeah, that guy. Apparently, he tried to sabotage the race. Might get disqualified. I saw the whole thing go down - shame you missed how he got clipped." The girl gave a half-hearted shrug.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes at the scene unfolding in front of you. Instead of dwelling on the drama, you reached into your pocket, pulling out a candy wrapper. The heat from your body had already begun to melt the surface, making it sticky and pliable. It was the one constant you always carried with you - your staple. 

"So, what’s the deal? Is this race happening or what?" You slipped the candy into your mouth, sucking on it as you adjusted yourself against the wall.

"Depends on if they find a fourth," the girl replied, eyeing the crowd. "Ty ain’t having it otherwise." Without a fourth car, the night’s events would lose their spark, and everyone knew it.

You rolled the candy around in your mouth, your eyes scanning the growing crowd. The usual characters were here - racer types, mechanics, thrill-seekers, and the occasional rogue who thought they could muscle their way in. The streetlights overhead flickered, casting long shadows across the scene, making it all feel surreal.

"You think they’ll find someone?" you asked, turning back to the girl, who was now tapping her fingers on the wall beside her, clearly losing interest in the drama unfolding.

"Hard to say. Someone always pulls through last minute." She took another drag of the joint, her eyes narrowing as she watched the scene ahead. "But Logan? He’s causing more trouble than usual tonight. Word is he’s pissed about something—guess you don’t get to be that good without making a few enemies along the way." Your fingers idly tracing the outline of the candy wrapper in your pocket. 

"Come on, someone’s got to step up," you muttered your words carefully,  more to yourself than anyone else.

The girl next to you snorted. "They’ll find someone. They always do. But it’s not the cars that make the race interesting, you know." She gave you a glance, a smirk playing on her lips. "It’s the people who drive them."

Before you could even attempt a response, an engine roared over the speech. Heads turned and faced a sleek Nissan R34 Skyline steadily working through the bundle of people. Smoke hissed from the side of the car, hushing everyone to a whisper. The ride was coated in a shade of blue that almost glowed in the moon light. 

Before you could even attempt a response, the roar of an engine roared over the murmur of voices. Heads snapped toward the sound, and there, cutting through the crowd was a sleek Nissan GT-R34 Skyline. The car moved with agility, its headlights slicing strong, drawing every eye in its path. The low growl of the engine reverberated in your chest in a rumble that made the air hum.

Smoke hissed from the side of the car as it came to a halt, the scent of burning rubber mixing with the sharpness of gasoline. A moment of silence swept through the crowd, all attention fixed on the vehicle before them. The Skyline was a masterpiece - its body sculpted to perfection with clean, aggressive lines that hinted at the power hidden beneath. The car was coated in a shade of azure that almost seemed to glow under the moonlight, the metallic paint catching every bit of ambient lights of the street. The contours of the car were sharp, slick, and purposeful - designed not just for looks, but for speed.

As it sat there, engine still rumbling softly, you couldn’t help but admire how the moonlight kissed its curves, highlighting the finely-tuned details that spoke to its performance. The signature wide-body stance, the aggressive front grille, the sleek carbon fibre hood—it was clear this was a machine built for dominance, not for show. And yet, it was a beauty to behold, every inch of it screaming power, precision, and reputation.

A familiar stature left the vehicle, slamming the door with the same cocky smile you’d grown used to. Ty met him halfway, studying the man in front before peeking a grin. “Can’t stay away from a race? Should’ve known your ass woulda showed up ‘ere.”

Matt lifted his face up, flickering between the line of cars and crowds of people. Some had returned back after hearing the engine. “Heard you guys needed a fourth. Lucky you, huh?” He leered towards the others before nodding his head to you. 

You quickly took pride in a strut towards Matt, winking at the guy who easily let you slip earlier. The way he snarled at you made you sway your hips just that little bit further as you met Matt’s side. 

“Angel, you gon’ start for us, hm?” While his gaze was mostly on you, a few other girls had grabbed his attention - that had to change.

“I always do, don’t I,” You traced a finger up his chest to flick his chin. “You know what you get if you win.” His gaze snapped to you - your body to be precise. The candy in your mouth egged him on. The shade of blue that began to coat your lips was too precise to his vehicle for his dick not to jump. “You know it, I’ll treat you good, yeah?”

“Enough you two, we have a race to host.” Tyler’s hands basically pried the two of you apart, pushing you towards the centre of the track and Matt to his car. He raised his voice to grab attention of all four drivers. “Right, y’know what’s at stake here. Thirty hundred each delivered to the winner. First to the end of the block and back here takes the pot. Understood?” None of the drivers spoke up - too busy trying to stare holes into their opponents’ tires. 

You simply gave a nod to Ty, acknowledging it was up to you to start the race. Your arm raises to mimic the wave of a flag before yelling out to the racers. “Three!”

The engine’s revved, sparks and fire shooting out of the exhausts, forcing the crowd to step back. Tyler just chuckled at the sight, new comers not knowing anything almost screaming at the fire.

“Two!” Matt’s eyes glanced over his new line of competition. Idling in his vehicle just inches away was the man who had been holding you moments ago, his fingers still fresh with the memory of your touch. Matt couldn’t help but think how foolish the guy was. Letting you slip away was a mistake and thinking he ever truly had you was even more ridiculous. Matt felt your eyes on him before he had even looked up, the pull of your gaze attracting him. When he finally allowed his eyes to flicker toward you, he was pleased to find you already watching him, a knowing look in your eyes that matched the satisfaction creeping across his face. His gaze lingered on your features, the softness of your lips, the light in your eyes and the tinge of blue on your tongue that he could practically taste himself.

“One!” Your hand struck down, practically hitting your hip which was already angled in a taunt. The cars strived forwards with a push. The wind that stemmed from the movement blew your hair as if it were a stormy day and you couldn’t hold back your cheer from adrenaline. The tires screeched loudly as they tried to grip to the asphalt. Everyone’s cars leered forwards, engines deepening with every violent shift in gears – the number slowly increasing.

The exhausts began to glow a powder blue, sparking every chance it got. Behind the four drivers, crowds of people yelled, hollering at the cars as they sped off. You stood there in the centre, laughing next to Ty.

60…70…80. The numbers rose rapidly, each car its own blur of light. Against the roar of engines, Matt’s thoughts began whirring. Turns and directions in this track were familiar after driving it in races the previous week but familiarity never meant he stopped thinking about his discourse. His eyes steady on the racers. One barely closing in behind and the other two in their own private match ahead.

Ignoring the obvious desire of winning, the red car before him spoke out to him. He wasn’t an idiot, he saw the way the owner of the car had stared primarily at your chest and when you were with Matt, the threat was clear. He glare was heavy but meaningless. He never had a claim on you, just some company before the real show arrived. So, he became an easy target. Although, Matt couldn’t dismiss the obvious. His car was modified, thousands going into the nitrous as well and a streamline finish that made for a serious contender. Built for speed, it became obvious as he reached first place instantly. He couldn’t let himself be carried away, not when the vehicle behind him was tailing so closely that he could give him a bump forwards if they accelerated.

The first turn was simple, a weak bend that spun into much shorter stretch of free road. With the view blocked by Matt’s own car, the blur of pink came to a halt as it spun into the sides of the turn. He could see the amount of money on that car disappear in a second due to pure arrogance, the though of their anger made him chuckle. “Pathetic.”

Drifting was made easier with his car model, stable and strong. Unlike the two other cars that seemed to chew up the road as they struggled to maintain their control, Matt’s car was solid, grounded. Some cars are designed for specific purposes and modifications can either enhance their one skill or balance them out. Their choice was clear. They shared the same one. In a long straight stretch, that would prove to be a worthy race, however with the upcoming turns one flick of the wheel could cost them.

He could feel the subtle weight shift in the rear of the car as he flirted with the edge of the limits of traction. The straightaways weren’t just about raw speed – they were about timing, about knowing when to release the nitrous to maximize your momentum without sending the car into a spin. Matt’s hand rested lightly on the button, ready for the right moment.

The red car wasn’t close enough to challenge just yet, but the other two were still fighting for position ahead. One of them, the one Matt pegged as the more reckless driver, was already taking chances, pushing the limits of his car on the straights. It wouldn't take long before his miscalculations came back to haunt him.

Matt adjusted the steering as they approached the next series of curves. This was the part of the track where precision would separate the winners from the losers. The turns were tight, and the asphalt was worn – perfect for drifting, but dangerous if you pushed it too hard. He was already preparing for the shift in weight, ready to rotate the car smoothly through the first tight curve. As the radius of the turn tightened, Matt eased off the throttle, downshifting to third gear with a quick, practiced motion.

Originally, the red car was a main execution on Matt’s mind and yet now it morphed into the finish line. It began to wobble through the turns, the rear tires losing their grip which sent it into a tailspin. This was the moment. Matt grinned wide, a quick flick of his right hand as he engaged the nitrous oxide system. A surge of power shot through the car, the engine roaring as the extra horsepower slammed Matt back into the seat. The car’s body leaned forward, the suspension compressing as the wheels dug into the asphalt, gripping the road as though nothing could stop it.

Matt steadily coaxed his vehicle into a victory, before drifting to halt, turned 180 degrees. He watched with a smirk plastered on his face – staring right at the crimson car and expression on the owner.

The crowd finally brought his gaze away from the car, the cheers bringing an honest smile to his face. Tyler rushed to his side, leaning on the side of the car while Matt got out.

“Hell yeah, how do you always make it look so easy out there, you’re such a cash grab these days.” Tyler spoke lowly, slinging his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to slap hard cash into his palm.

Now it was your turn to make an appearance. Lollipop remnants crackled in your mouth with a sharp bite on the stick. By now, your mouth tasted sweeter than his victory.  Yet before you could speak up alongside him, a hand gripped tighter to your wrist than a steering wheel.

“Where are you off to, little lady, hm?” The voice was familiar and once you attempted to yank yourself back, you looked up. You were met with the face of man you were with prior to Matt’s arrival – his face closer than any pleasant conversion. There was no question in his eyes, just the quiet expectation to remain compliant.

His grip made your pulse race, and you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine. The sugary sweetness of the lollipop in your mouth now felt like an aftertaste that didn’t belong.

You glared up at him, your voice steady but edged with a warning. “Let go.”

His lips curled into a tight smirk, his breath too close to your face. "Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it earlier, why don’t we continue that?"

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was a rarity in itself, especially in this setting. "I’m not interested. Let go of me." His actions made it clear that he didn’t have the thought of obeying you. Yet before he could respond, a voice cut through the tension, loud enough to turn heads. “You heard her, right?”

Matt stood just a few steps away now, his stance wide and relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The stare he held wasn’t a way to size him up, it was a threat, one he usually never has to make.

The man holding you didn’t look away. Instead, he shot Matt a glance that was full of disdain. "Not only does pretty boy wanna steal my race, he wants to steal my girl too."

Matt’s eyes narrowed. He took a slow step forward, his hands relaxed at his sides but his posture still radiating a quiet threat. "Is that what this is about? The fact I won. Don’t take that out on the girl, I’m sorry she doesn’t want to fuck you.”

The guy’s grip didn’t loosen, but his jaw twitched, irritation building behind his eyes. “You think you can begin playing hero?”

“Only when you play beggar.” Matt replied, his voice low but with a dangerous edge that made the air feel heavier.

The crowd had fallen into an uneasy silence, watching the unfolding standoff. You could hear the faint buzz of the engines as you clenched your teeth, the taste of sugar turning bitter in the tense air.

The guy’s grip faltered, just for a moment, his eyes flicking from Matt to you. Then with a scoff, he shoved you back. Hard.

You stumbled, barely managing to stay upright, your breath catching as your back hit the metal of the car behind you. The crowd murmured in the background, but you didn’t have time to focus on them. Your pulse was racing now, but you straightened, refusing to show weakness.

Matt moved quickly, his movements fluid and precise as he closed the distance between them in a flash. He grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him against the nearest car, the sound sharp in the air. “Stupid mistake,” Matt muttered softly and before the guy could react, Matt swung at him, landing a solid punch to his nose. The sound of the punch echoed through the street, the force behind it enough to send the guy stumbling back. “Didn’t think you’d be fucking stupid enough to start something you couldn’t finish.”

Blood dripped from the man’s nose, groaning as he touched it to assess the damages. He scoffed once more, attempting to stand tall. Matt wasn’t blind to his quickly clenched fist and grabbed it before he could lunge. His fist slammed back into the car door, his own scrapping roughly on metal.

Everything was silent for too long, your palm soothing where the man grabbed you, Matt’s gaze heavy on who was standing opposite him, and the once cocky attitude dissipating from the man. When he looked away from Matt, he let go, retreating backwards to meet your side.

“Everybody! Don’t y’all got another race to see?” Tyler’s voice echoed, nodding to you before steering the crowd away. Mutters bounced through the crowd, some throwing insults to the pair of them. Even Tyler got a few comments merely for breaking it up.

“You okay?” The adrenaline was starting to fade, but there was still a lingering tension that clung to your skin. You glanced down at your palm where the man had gripped you, the burn of his fingers still fresh, but nothing that couldn’t be shaken off.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steady despite what just occurred. “I’m fine.” He gave you a small smile, a brief flicker of relief passing through his eyes before he glanced around at the now-chattering crowd. It was clear the spectacle had stirred something in them, but Matt was already moving past it. “Good. Let’s get out of here before I have to deal with another idiot. I don’t trust guys like that to take the hint.”

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field IV

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!!

masterlists // nav // requests

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a/n: im just hammering this out at this point-

next part

The following days were full of a new routine. Every morning, take pain medication for your now neverending migraine, gather food for Lucy Gray and the Snow's, check in with Jessup and redress his bite as best you can, go to the hospital and be denied visitation to Coryo, go to class, and then start the cycle again that afternoon. You were getting burnt out, and quickly- your parents were displeased that you weren't home as often. Their patience was wearing thin.

If you were honest with yourself, your patience was also wearing thin. You were catering to Lucy Gray, which of course you agreed to do, but in the case that she wins the games, the Plinth Prize would not be going to you. It would still go to Coriolanus- and he was in the hospital doing nothing but recovering. Which was good. You remind yourself several times a day that you are happy to help because at least he isn't dead.

The sun is setting when Coriolanus wakes up again, this time feeling less groggy. He's been in and out the last few days, most of it as a blur due to the pain medication that has been pumping into his system through an IV for the last few days. He does vaguely remember waking up to eat as much as he could stomach, talking to Clemensia, maybe, unless he was hallucinating, and telling a nurse to stop letting you in when he kept seeing covered plates and glass containers showing up with more food. It had to have been you, and while he was grateful for it, he loathed the idea of you pitying him.

Tigris and Sejanus were both present, now, and despite telling the staff to not let you in, he's more than a little disappointed you are not there. He furrows his brow, attempting to pull out the tube from his hand. "Hey, hey-" Tigris stops him, shaking her head out of confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I'm better." He insists, pushing her hand away.

"I need to go check on Lucy Gray..." He mumbles, shaking his head.

"Y/N is with her. She's fine." Sejanus tells him, standing by the end of the bed.

"Now? What time is it? How do you know?"

"Well, the interviews will start in an hour or so." His friend explains.

"An hour?" Coriolanus asks, now more frantically pulling out the tube with a hiss. He has to be there, he has to go introduce Lucy Gray. He didn't even consciously realize time was passing while he was there.

"No, Coryo, you can't go. Y/N can handle it." Tigris says, trying to calm him.

"Sejanus, are you going?" He asks, ignoring his cousin completely.

Sejanus looks down, shaking his head and twisting his fingers out of nervousness. "No, uh, Marcus escaped. He's gone."

Coriolanus was disappointed- he was hoping he would be able to hitch a ride with him. He'll have to run- though it isn't too far.

"Okay, well, I'm going." He insists, grabbing a pile of clean clothes that Tigris had brought for him the day previous.

Tigris gives up on trying to stop him, and Sejanus hasn't really attempted to. He knows that you would be happy to see him if he is feeling well enough to go. Watching you in class, constantly jittery and even a little pale, made it evident that you needed Coriolanus, or you were worried, at the very least.

Thankful for the morphing he still had in his bloodstream, he makes it to the studio in time for Lucy Gray's interview, even with a few minutes to spare. As soon as he sees you, he can tell that you've been struggling. The bags under your eyes couldn't be hidden by makeup, nor could your healing bruises from the bombing that were now turning a shade of green that would typically make him ill. Scattered as well among them were some darker ones, purple ones, around your elbow and on your wrist. Regardless, you're smiling- talking in a hushed tone to Lucy Gray.

You're opening your brother's guitar case, carefully lifting it out of the velvet that surrounded it when you see Coryo walking toward you, and you're immediately abandoning your effort to stand up and greet him. "Coryo? What are you doing here?" You ask, excitement fading into worry.

"I wouldn't miss it." He smiles politely, adjusting his cuffs.

You sigh, finding the effort to match his smile. "You made it." Lucy Gray grins at him, brushing over her face with a cloth you offered her, a small effort to clean up the dirt and grime that clung to her skin in the zoo.

"Well, I got her a guitar. It's my brothers." You quickly move on, already feeling comforted by his presence alone. You grab it, holding it out to him as Lucy digs into the makeup that you had brought for her to borrow, hoping to add some life back into her face.

He takes it, looking over the polished wood and the brand-new strings. "Thank you. And it's tuned? Working order?"

"Tip top shape." You promise with a nod. "I had it professionally looked over this morning."

"You're a dream." Coryo praises you, making you blush. "Thank you, Y/N. Truly."

"It's my job."

Lucy Gray did amazing in her performance- and everyone loved it. She received the most donations by a long shot, which will allow Coriolanus to help her in the arena. As much as he can without changing her abilities to defend herself or fight, anyway.

You had made it home shortly after, returning your brother's guitar and having a shower before practically crawling into bed. Finally, you feel like you may be able to get a good night's sleep. Coryo is home, and even though you have an early morning, you'll be able to relax enough to rest.

That is, until you hear something snapping against the window next to your bed. You try and ignore it, covering your ears with your pillow, but the tapping persists.

You flick on your lamp and hesitantly pull back the curtain, peeking out to track the source of the noise. It was only a moment before your eyes landed on Coryo, who waves when he can see you in the window. You rub your eyes, squinting from the light and sliding the window open.

"Coryo?" You ask, confused as to why he's here.

"Come down, bring your notebook." He whispers loud enough for you to hear, but his voice is still soft enough to not wake anyone else in your house. "And a coat, it's quite cold."

You sigh. "Okay. Give me two minutes." Apparently, rest isn't a part of your evening plans.

You follow alongside him all the way to the arena, already set up to host the Hunger Games in the morning.

"Woah..." You gasp, walking into the same clearing you had just days before, but now it looked like a whole new place. "Okay. This we can work with." You smile a little to yourself, not noticing Coryo training his eyes on you.

He watches as you walk ahead of him, immediately toward the center of the large room as you scribble in your notebook. You wanted to get down as many details as possible, every new pile of debris or hole that could offer a place of refuge for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus wants to focus on the task at hand, but this is the first time he's been around you without the prying eyes of classmates or adults in a long time. You were never alone, he almost always was outside of school.

Walking up next to you, the light from the moon hits your hair and the side of your face as you look around, hardly glancing at the book in your hand. "Are you..." He starts, being reminded of what he noticed on the walk over but wouldn't dare to mention.

"Hm?" You prompt him to continue, drawing your attention to the boy in front of you now and lifting your pen to your mouth, biting onto it while you shake out a cramp in your wrist.

"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks, leaning in slightly to get a closer look.

"Excuse me?" You laugh awkwardly after grabbing the pen once more, taking a small step back. "Certainly your grandmother taught you its unbecoming to ask a lady such a question."

He chuckles slightly, looking away from you. "Bold of you to assume I consider you a lady." He jokes.

You gasp in mock offense, playfully smacking his arm. "How dare you!" You can't help but laugh. Now you remember why you were friends. Or why you considered him a friend, and why he believed that he was merely tolerating you. In reality, he didn't have to bring you. He could have come on his own, but why should he when you would be willing to accompany him? You're known for your attitude, your brashness, and he admired your unwavering ambition- whatever you wanted you would get. Not just because of your family name, either. You were willing to work for it, to fight for it.

Coriolanus was walking a fine line between desiring your presence and his own indifference. Now, surpassing a mere tolerance of you, this change scared him. "I know what you look like, you know. It's the middle of the night, there was no use wasting our time with putting on makeup." He says, not wanting to let on his own intrigue on the topic.

"I would argue that you don't, not since we were fourteen, anyway." You reply, dipping your head to get back to your sketching. "It's more of a force of habit."

His closeness allows him to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly lifting your head back up to get a better look at you. Your eyes widen, your heartbeat increasing with a mix of fear and embarrassment.

His eyes bore into you, into every part of your face as if your skin would somehow tell him the full story. You can't bring yourself to speak, just waiting for him to find the answers he wanted.

"Is it your father?" He asks, looking into your eyes now, his grip loosening on your chin.

You take a quick step back. You were aware that he knew something, he was the only one who tended to stare too long at your skin wherever it was exposed ever since you were thirteen and he asked what happened when you came to school with a bruise on your cheek. Notably more so after your essay last year that rewarded you with only a B.

"I won't tell anyone." He says, and your own voice echoes in your mind after telling him the same thing just the other day at your house. "I would have by now if I was going to."

"Why do you care?" You bite back, defensiveness being your go to weapon in a war of self-preservation.

He wants to spit at you that he doesn't, but that's a lie he couldn't even dream of in this moment. You'd storm out, probably never talk to him again, and that idea hurt him. "I want to help you."

"Well, not much anyone can do now is there?" You reply, attempting to move on. "Let's look around." You try and change the subject, give yourself an outlet to walk away, but this doesn't work as Coryo is grabbing your wrist, stopping you from taking another step.

"You can help by ignoring it." You sigh, his blue eyes just staring as he scrambled to find the right thing to say. "By not treating me like I'm going to break at every turn. How does that sound?"

He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't, slightly shaking his head. He wants to release his grip on your wrist, tense and tight with urgency, but how could he without giving you the idea he thinks he's hurting you? He slides his hand into yours, holding his breath. "I apologize. It's not what I intended."

Now it's your turn to be speechless, staring down at your hands locked together.

"I just wanted to keep you safe." He explains, dancing around the idea even in his own mind that maybe he cares for you more than he should. "After Arachne, and after Clemensia, and now the Ring twins and Felix still fighting in that hospital bed it's so obvious to me that we are far from safe in this. We always were."

Your brow furrows. "What happened to Clem?"

"Dr. Gaul..." He takes in a deep breath. "One of her experiments, Clemensia has been in the hospital for days and she has these scales growing all over her and I thought I watched her die and then you almost died and-"

"Hey, hey, woah-" You cut him off, stepping closer again and not daring to drop his hand as he begins to crumble in front of you. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

He just nods, attempting to swallow back the fear in his voice.

"Okay. So, we've made it this far. You'll get that prize, we'll move on. Next year it will be someone else's problem. You will be safe." You say, squeezing his hand gently. "We're almost done, just a few more days."

His mouth is dry, and despite his heart racing, he knows you are right. After tonight, you won't be face-to-face with the tributes again. Neither of you will be in harm's way anymore, at least, not due to the games. Life will return to normal for you, and he will claim the prize he is owed and his life will change for the better. You won't be bringing him food every day, and you won't both be stressing over how to best prepare Lucy Gray. The tightness in his chest returns as his thoughts devolve- will he miss you?

It catches you off guard when he pulls you into a hug. Tight, panicked, heavy under the weight of all the tragedy and grief the two of you walk around with day to day. There is no one who gets him quite like you do. This time, he rests his chin on your head as your arms wrap around his waist, hands overlapping on his back. No, it's not enough. He tilts his head down so he can feel the warmth of you on his cheek, holding you tight as he takes in the scent of your hair. It's not roses, not like his mother's powder or what's left of her clothes in the Snow apartment, it's fresh. The smell of whatever soap you use doesn't demand to be noticed and inhaled, it's mostly full of you. Raspberries. That's it- it's raspberries mixed with you.

"We're almost done..." You whisper again, gently rubbing his back now in reassurance. He wonders, could you not feel the weight of everything? Of both of your entire lives barreling toward you all at once? Of course not. You were Y/N Y/L/N, you could only feel the pain of others; altruism drips out of every ounce of your being despite your habit of lashing out. Of course, you couldn't see it. You only saw him right now. Not his fear of losing you.

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[lottieleers]

casual.

word count: 588

warnings: none

a/n: cross posted on ao3 so if you saw it there first hi again

everytime lottie matthews stepped into laura lees house, she felt an intense wave of shame. seeing all the crosses, the bibles scattered in nearly every room, it made her feel nauseous and lightheaded. to be in such a religious place while being so… sinful made her feel out of place, like a stranger despite the decade and a half shes known laura lee for. the blonde led lottie up to her room, an act that was so familiar it relaxed her slightly, and took a seat on her bed. as laura lee got comfortable, lottie stood there awkwardly before eventually walking over to the record player on the dresser — lottie had gotten her that for christmas four years ago — and putting on the mazzy star vinyl laura lee had bought on their last mall date trip together. there were remnants of lottie scattered everywhere in laura lees room, from the vinyls she had next to her player to her closet where three of lotties old hoodies hung, it made her heart feel heavy. she didn’t know how much longer she could deal with it.

“lottie?” laura lee called out, a small pout on her lips. “you’ve been up here for ten minutes and we still haven’t done anything.”

lottie swallowed nervously, the act a subtle one, before walking over to the bed. “i-i know, lau… b-but don’t you think this is… wrong?”

laura lee looked at her in confusion. “what do you mean ‘wrong?’”

“w-well youre like super religious and i mean i-isn’t it a sin or whatever to kiss other girls?” lottie tried to remember everything she could from her mother’s time as a christian — a short lived thing, really — to use as an excuse to get out of… whatever her and laura lee were doing.

“it’s just practice, lottie, it’s not like we’re… having sex .” laura lee whispers the last part, an act that was incredulously ironic in the moment. “and it’s so we can be good kissers for when we get boyfriends!”

“boyfriends… right…” her voice came out hesitant. if only laura lee knew the truth.

“it’s only casual! it’s what friends do.” laura lee smiles wide. “jackie told me her and shauna practice kissing all the time!”

that made lotties eyes go wide. “practice…? laura lee i dont think theyre practicing…”

laura lee dismissed her words with a wave of her hand before patting the bed next to her “come on, lottie! i think ive almost got the hang of it now.”

she took a deep breath before taking a seat where laura lee had motioned to, her mouth dry and her heart racing. casual? was this casual? was it casual to practice kissing with your hyper-religious crush best friend? do girls do this nowadays? lottie had no idea. she barely had time to get her brain out of panic mode before laura lee kissed her, the action sending her right back to mentally freaking out. her lips were soft — they always were — and tasted like the vanilla honey chapstick she used. she smelled like lavender and her face felt amazing cradled between lotties hands. she hated this. she hated practicing. she hated the idea that laura lee was using her to please a man lottie might never meet. but she loved laura lee. and she would do anything to see her smile, even if that means swallowing down the bile that came up her throat at the thought of pretending like she didn’t wish she was a boy everytime she saw laura lee.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 17 | Coffe and Calculations

“You know, if you throw your laptop across the room, it might make you feel better,”

summary: youve been in a spiral lately and decided to schedule a study session with Matt, while you were still struggling he had already finished all of his work but to not pressure you, he pretended to still have unfinished work by scribbling on a piece of paper but still keeping a close eye on you, asking if you need a break you didn’t want but secretly needed.

warnings: FLUFF & nothing else!

authors note: I have no idea what to put here at all 😭, I know fics have been coming a bit later than they used to but ive been pretty busy lately and not feeling the best but I still want to bring and put out some content for yall and hope you all understand, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The library was a familiar safe space of silence, broken only by the soft tapping of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. I stared at my laptop screen, an endless amount of words and numbers blurring together as I tried to make sense of the textbook PDF open in front of me. My brain felt like it was running a hundred miles per hour yet I was nowhere near my destination. Matt sat across the table with a calm expression displayed on his face, his laptop closed and textbook casually stacked on top. I could see his eyes glancing between his phone and me, a mix of concentration and amusement dancing together across his features. He’d finished most of his work hours ago but was playing the role of the dedicated study buddy.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples. “You can do this.” I could sense Matt’s gaze lingering longer than it usually did. He let out a soft chuckle and I glanced up, shooting him a glare. “What’s so funny?” “Just watching you work so hard. You look like you’re on a mission or maybe trapped in a really boring sci-fi show.” He smirked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Very funny, Matt. I feel like I’m in a universe where deadlines are infinite and caffeine is running low.” I groaned, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. “I swear if I don’t finish this tonight, I might just lose it completely.”

He tilted his head, being in deep contemplation as if seriously considering my words. “You know, if you throw your laptop across the room, it might make you feel better,” he suggested, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But that might also be a good way to get kicked out of the library.” “Yeah and I’d hate to get banned for a laptop homicide,” I shot back, my frustration transferring into a laugh. The absurd of the thought lightened my mood even if only slightly. As I returned my focus to the screen, I could feel the weight of his attention. He was trying not to pressure me but his presence was both a comfort and an annoyance. “If you need a break, just say the word,” he said casually, still pretending to type away.

“I might just need a break like, right now,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “But I’ve got to finish at least this section before I can afford to breathe.” “Okay, okay. But don’t think I’ll let you cook that stress away with late night ramen again,” he warned, waving his phone as if it were a weapon. “Last time, I swear, you nearly boiled the water dry while I was trying to figure out how to make instant noodles for dinner.” “Hey, those noodles were an experiment! I like to live dangerously,” I retorted, though I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. Judging by his expression I could tell he was fighting back a grin. “You’re brave for sure. But how about a quick break? Come on, just five minutes?” He was relentless, but not in a bad way. As I hesitated, he stood up and started doing some exaggerated stretches, arms reaching up dramatically while his legs did an awkward dance underneath the study table. His tricks were ridiculous but they always made me laugh. “Alright, you win. Five-minute break it is.” I admitted, shutting my laptop with a satisfying click.

“Now we’re talking!” He beamed, offering me a hand. As we moved to stand, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him. He might have been done with his work but he was doing something just as important, keeping me grounded and aware that I didn’t have to suffer through this alone. Even if he was doing it while pretending to work. In that library, surrounded by peers lost in their own worlds, we shared a moment, a let off from the overwhelming feeling of academic pressure. And in the middle of the chaos that was our college life, it was all I needed.

@hearts4werka |

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[gaylordscooter]

Log of the Multiverse: Nightmare

hoo boy i got shivers just writing down their name.

i'm doing their entry before dream's because, like ink, i'll let him write his own. too bad he's so incredibly busy all the time

now nightmare, his brother, the guardian of negativity. they're terrifying. i can't believe they're dream's twin. they hardly even look like a skeleton.

Thankfully they're nowhere NEAR as active as Dream is. in fact, it's a rare sight to see them for the average person. unfortunately i'm with a group of loony people that happen to be the only people nightmare would seek out from time to time.

i actually got a sticky note i wrote on after i encountered them for the first time

[there's a somewhat crumpled sticky note taped on, it reads:

their touch hurts, presumably because of the goop (speaking of goop. no idea what it's made out of). reminds me of the time i spilt hydrochloric acid on my foot on accident. however, it doesn't actually leave a wound or lasting pain, like touching fire without getting burned

you’ll know they're near when you get a heavy feeling in your soul, similar to blue magic but if it hated you.

negative feelings fuel them. it’s like their food. would being happy drive them away?

they don't kill as long as they find you useful apparently im “a cesspool of anxiety and guilt that provides a plentiful amount of energy”. i hope they choke on my feelings.]

i forgot about that last bit. moving on

they've caused quite a bit of commotion back in their peak. they were on par with error in terms of disturbing universes. they just had. different methods (such as, killing loved ones in front of people, making people live out their worst fears, spilling people's very important secrets, manipulating people who are close to hate each other, ruining the happy endings of many universes) they're a lot more sadistic than error. i suppose that makes sense. they ARE the guardian of negativity.

now i was still in my universe while that was happening, i'm just paraphrasing what ink told me.

and then they just suddenly cut back. they stopped doing all of that.

ink expected this, obviously. he knew how their script goes. (of course he cant TELL me what happens in his script. he can only drop hints and even then he tries not to, to play it safe)

what i do know is that the balance between negativity and positivity is Very much out of wack. what i don't know is what the consequence of that is. yet.

I'm gonna go on a limb and say it's nothing good and buckle up for the ride.

wow it sure sucks knowing something bad is gonna happen and being powerless to stop it. how the hell does ink do it.

side note: ive been calling them the "guardian of negativity" but i don't actually know what that entails. same with dream's title as "guardian of positivity". honestly i don't think either of them know either.

i guess dream's positive all the time, like he can't even feel negative emotions

oh my god im stupid. he literally can't, can he?

then that would mean nightmare cant feel positive emotions. that's. wow. huh.

shit. well, i'm gonna have a chat with dream. or ink, if he doesn't want to talk.

[dearestdo3]

I saw your pregnant!Voldemort art, and I had this idea: (It may or may not be omegaverse) Voldemort and Harry are together, and he knows that Harry always wanted to have a family. So he does everything he can to get pregnant, but it's hard to conceive and when he does he has many miscarriages. Voldemort insists on keeping trying, but Harry doesn't want to see any more miscarriages. Voldemort thinks that Harry will leave him for not being able to have children. He knows that it's his fault that his body is not fit for pregnancy. He asks for one last try, and Harry accepts. He manages to get pregnant, during the gestation Voldemort makes a deal with Death, he agrees to lose all his magic in exchange for Death not taking his baby. The pregnancy is difficult and complicated, and ends in a long and painful birth. Death didn't say he wouldn't take Voldemort with him. Voldemort survives because he uses (unconsciously) the magic of love (he loves Harry and the baby). A girl is born and has magic. Voldemort loses his magic. The girl is named Eliana (means God has answered). Sorry if this is too much distressing, I just wanted to share this idea. ;w;

anon thank you so much for feeding me you absolutely have no clue how much i love angst in general!! whump and pregnant tom/voldemort is something ive desperately wanted for so long as well so im eating a buffet w ur ask 😭💕

link to post for self promo 😘

more rambles under cut!

ive always loved v's determination, so despite the miscarriages and the emotional + physical toll it takes on him, he def would still trudge forward bc he has a goal and he will tunnelvision until he gets what he wants. I'm thinking this would be omegaverse and v got hit with the worst baby fever he ever experienced in his life. It just so happened that he could feel how harry years for a family he can call his own so he'd start plotting in his head and execute it entirely on his own.

harry as you said of course hated seeing him doing that to himself and felt guilty over his wish that drove v like this, but one last time they tried for a baby (per harry's insistence that it will be the LAST time ever) and it actually worked <3

omega!v would be a force to be reckoned with definitely, w how protective pregnant omegas are in general. he's already a lot normally, but pregnant v? he will do everything to make sure the child survives if it means sacrificing lives

v losing his magic would be a very extreme situation though i feel like, since hes always been very very dependent on his magic and its something absolutely precious to him. but if there's no way else than to lose his magic in exchange for a life that is a part of his own, he'd take a looooong while to think about it first (even if harry promised he will protect v and the child)

and eliana is such a cute name!! 💚

deviating from your ask though, I'm more of a believer that if they were to concieve, harry and v would accidentally create a child and v is too proud to admit it wasn't part of his big master plan to keep harry with him lmao

Harry in my head would've had a horrific time trying to process everything and is so flabbergasted at how casual v is with this sudden revelation. Of course due to age, v's gaunt genetics, non-human body, the pregnancy is really hard on him that he can barely even do the simplest magic the more the baby grows. it kills him inside that he has to rely on harry/DEs for a lot of things, made him feel like he's weak and fragile and his ego can't handle it, so his mood worsened and he's far more intimidating/mean to harry/his followers than usual.

when the baby's born he will also be protective, rarely ever leaving the bed much less the bedroom. nobody but him and harry can meet the child, and this protective mood prevails until she can actually start walking on her own (like baby snakes leaving the nest after they hatch) 😊😊 harry is still finding his footing with this new weird family that v gave him but eventually he will grow into a dadgirl who does everything he can to influence his princess to sort into gryffindor and play quidditch like him lol

[mistydeyes]

building blocks and alphabet letters

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summary: You and Kyle met in daycare. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't quite the genius he was today. In fact, the first time he met you dad was when he was shoving toy blocks in his mouth. He hates that story but he'll make an exception for his young daughter who is terrified of school.

pairing: Gaz x fem!Reader (established relationship)

warnings: none :) just some good ol' fluff!

a/n: want more cute fluffy fics of the 141 being dads? I GOTCHU COVERED RIGHT HERE!! dad simon with two daughters has me hooked

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You first met Kyle in daycare school. You couldn't have been more than 2 or so. This daycare took care of kids while their parents worked and tried to teach them something between snack time and playtime. Your father was with you that day and you had to show him what you learned over the school year. As you sat, perfectly pointing out each of the letters of the alphabet, you were distracted by another boy your age. "Honey, look over here," your father beckoned, trying to get your attention. But all you could pay attention to was the kid shoving blocks in his mouth while his mother helplessly tried to stop him.

Kyle hates that story with a passion. Every time you threaten to mention it, he gets red and demands you not to. To you though, it's cute seeing how his ears get pink and how he scrunches his nose. After 18 years of friendship and 7 years of dating, he's gotten used to your antics. This time, the story has a purpose. Instead of a drunk bar story, it's now something to relax your young daughter from her nerves about going to school.

By now your daughter was 4 and was frightened at the idea of leaving your familiar home. She was a spitting image of Kyle and loved the outdoors. You would always tease that Kyle was meant to be a girl dad. He was having a hard time now as he was trying to convince her to go tomorrow. "Ives, we talked about this, you're going to school tomorrow," Kyle began to say and you could see your daughter's lip begin to quiver. Kyle had been home for three weeks now and all your daughter wanted to do was spend time with the both of you. The last few weeks of trips to the cinema, the park, and going out to eat were coming to an end for her and it was apparent she was not happy about it.

"But I want to stay with Mummy and Daddy," she cried as she hugged you both tight. You gave Kyle a look of sadness at your daughter's wails. In between her tears, she choked out, "Daddy's never home I want to be here!" This time when you looked at Kyle, he wore the same expression of sadness.

"Sweetie, did I ever tell you how Mummy and I met?" Kyle asked and she turned to face him. As she wiped off her tears with her small hands, Kyle went into the story. "When I was only 2 years old, my Mummy and Daddy had to go to work and I couldn't stay at home," he began and had your daughter's full attention. She looked at him with her brown eyes and he sat her in his lap. "But it was okay because I met Mummy! She was the smartest kid there and we had so many adventures on the playground," you smiled fondly as he continued. "Mummy can tell you that Grandad thought I was an odd kid because I would shove blocks in my mouth, but Mummy was still my friend." he finished and gave you both a kiss on the forehead. "And look at Mummy and Daddy now! If I never went to school then I would never have met Daddy and we wouldn't have you," you finished and your daughter seemed to calm down. "Okay, only cause you went, I go," she said triumphantly and you three cheered in excitement.

Later that night when you put Ivy to bed, you and Kyle went downstairs to enjoy the rest of the night. "I didn't think you would ever tell her that story," you joked as you sat on the couch. "It was necessary," he replied and you both shared a laugh. "I still have the picture!" you said and scrolled to your phone to find it. In the photograph, sat you and your father smiling with an alphabet book and Kyle in the background, crying as his mother confiscated the blocks. "Never show anyone that," he jokingly threatened as he took your phone away. You got into a pillow fight as you fought over the picture and ended by resting on his chest again. "Mind telling that story again?" you asked and Kyle looked at you, curiously. "Never," he said and crossed his arms childishly. "Oh really? Not even for our second?" you smirked. It took Kyle all of two seconds to realize what you had just said. He embraced you and you told him you found out the news yesterday. As you lay in bed that night, Kyle thanked everything in the universe for letting you meet all those years ago.